Neverland
by anonymouse27
Summary: The dark truth behind the Peter Pan and Wendy story. What really happened during the time the Darling children were whisked away? And is Peter Pan, with no past or family, as innocent as he seems?
1. A Dark Night

"Say goodnight to your sister Master Michael and Master John," instructed the nursery-maid.

"Goodnight, Gwendolyn," they chanted obediently. She leaned over and planted a kiss on Michael's forehead and patted the foot of Johns' bed, "Goodnight boys," she replied before returning to her room down the hall.

The servant bid her goodnight too, bobbing a curtsey as she left. The young girl sighed, grateful of the privacy of her room and proceeded to undress behind a muslin screen, pulling on a silk nightdress in place of her numerous petticoats and suffocating corset. She sat down at her dressing table and began pulling out the pins that kept her hair coiled up in a bun on top of her head. She returned them to the small silver casket on the table and dragged an ivory-backed comb through her chestnut brown tresses, humming softly to herself.

The sounds of her parents' laughter floated up to her from below before being drowned out by the sound of the clatter of hooves on the cobbled pavement. The sound of her parents escaping responsibility as they so often did, leaving the chore of bringing up three children to the hired help- as was expected of them. She never minded and never had. One had to keep up with the times after all.

She stared at her reflection in the glass. She had always been the pride of the parents, the apple of her father's eye. With her dark hair, her unusually almond shaped eyes and full red lips, Gwendolyn Darling often dubbed The Black Beauty. She was an adolescent quickly nearing the epoch of womanhood. A process which only seemed to enhance her beauty further. Add to that her singing voice, the gentle way in which she carried herself and her musical prowess and she could pick any man she wanted. Naturally, her father was waiting for the richest man in the city, old enough to _be _her father, to ask for her hand in marriage. She didn't particularly care; he was probably too old to be liberal with the belt by now anyway.

If there were ever a word designed to described Gwendolyn, or Lynn, as she personally preferred, it would be content. It summed up her whole state of existence. There was rarely anything she yearned for and if there was it was soon acquired either by way of lavish parents or eager suitors.

She had been taught, at the tender age of eight, that a proper young lady never let her emotions show. She was instructed to keep a calm and collected disposition at all times. She was never to speak unless spoken to, and it was considered most ladylike if you feigned ignorance in company, as most gentlemen preferred it when they believed they were of a higher level of intelligence than the woman they were entertaining. Gwendolyn was a fast learner.

Lynn completed her hundred strokes and stood up to extinguish the lamps in her room. She climbed into her deep feather mattress, pulled her downy soft comforter up to her chin and blew out her bedside candle, plunging the room into darkness and shadow.

*****

Lynn shivered and pulled her blanket more securely around her. Her teeth chattered. She rubbed her eyes and blinked several times trying to grow accustomed to the dark. She climbed out of bed, wrapping her nightgown around her and moved to shut the window. She pulled the drapes aside letting in a flood of moonlight. Something whispered behind her. She turned around but saw nothing. She took a cautious step forwards and screamed.

"Now, now sweetheart, I'll have none of that," said a mocking voice in her ear while a gloved hand clamped down on her mouth cutting her blood-curdling screams short. Before she knew what was going her hands had been bound and her mouth gagged by a strip of tattered, foul tasting cloth.

She was sat down in the middle of her room and trembled with fear. Her eyes alighted on several short men, easily visible in the moonlight, dressed in black though they were. The one who'd spoken, their leader she presumed, signaled something to them and they silently began to rifle through her drawers and cupboards depositing any object into a pile where she sat. Lynn watched the band of thieves with anxious eyes, following their soundless yet swift movements throughout the room. They were a blur of activity. The speed with which they conducted their operation made it clear that they were no strangers to the thieving business. She realized that while the smaller thieves flitted many a time from a drawer or chest to the center of the room, adding to the growing pile, their leader was nowhere to be seen.

Lynn had anticipated the arrival of this day. She would be kidnapped and her captors would demand an obscene amount of money in return for her safe return. Her daydreams would usually end with her Prince Charming being so relieved at her safety that he would finally come out of hiding and ask her to marry him. They would not harm her she reasoned, for what use was a dead hostage after all? Having reached this conclusion, Lynn waited patiently, her fear slightly abated.

Suddenly, every one of the thieves froze. They stood still for a fraction of a second as though listening to some silent instruction before darting out of the room at lightning speed. She sat alone in the dark room, the moon hidden by the clouds. With the darkness came an unaccountable fear fro the other occupants of the house. Her parents were staying at a friend's estate out of town. Her brothers would probably not be found for there was no treasure to be found in a children's nursery. Besides, her two brothers put together would probably not fetch half as much ransom as she alone. She closed her eyes and prayed, the sound of her frenzied heartbeat hammering in her ears.

Not two minutes had passed when she heard the creak of the loose floorboard in front of the nursery door. Perhaps they had just come to check if there were any valuables; they would not harm the children, surely. She clenched her teeth, trying to swallow the bubbling panic that was bubbling trying to overwhelm her. The nursery was too far for her to ear what was going on. She shook from the force of her anxiety. Her bedroom door swung open and her heart lunged down into her stomach. Tears trickled down her cheeks and the sleepy, frightened figures of her two younger brothers were marched into the room, bound and gagged as she was.

The thieves pushed the boys, hardly taller than they were, into the centre of the room towards her. The five captors encircled hem, the leader at their head. He spread his hands and a dark mist descended, making their forms blurred and pressing down heavily on her consciousness. She resisted as fiercely as she could but the desire to slumber was too great and she was soon engulfed by the darkness.

____________

A/N: What do you think? R&R pls :)


	2. So It begins

It was cold, mind-numbingly so. She sifted through her recent memories to try make sense of her surroundings. She was in some sort of storeroom probably; it was small, bare and the size of her wardrobe at home. She had been kidnapped. Well there was a first time for everything after all, she thought, still not thinking straight. She was alone; her brothers nowhere to be seen. She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to wriggle her hands free of her bonds. Her nose was going numb from the cold and she was starting to lose the sensation in her fingers and toes. The material of the dress chafing against her bare arms and calves was scratchy and much shorter than her own silk nightgown.

Before she had time to worry about where her brothers were or how she had changed clothes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Her breath hitched in her chest. The light filtering in through the crack under the door was being obscured, plunging her into complete darkness. It creaked open on rusty hinges admitting two small men in masks, one holding a lantern aloft making their faces easier to see. They were only boys, she realised with surprise. They hauled her up roughly and she yelped in surprise at the strength of their grip. They pushed her out into a corridor, only leading the way with the lantern, the other following behind her. By now, most of Lynn's fear had been replaced by shock and astonishment. What kind of thief employed children?

They were dressed identically in outfits of slate-grey. They reminded her of statues: everything from the clothes they wore, to the colours of their eyes to the expressions on their boyish faces were as cold and as ashen as stone. Something by the boys' ear caught the light and glinted in the semi-darkness. It was a strange piece of jewellery for a young boy. A single jewel earring.

They led her through a maze of stairways and tunnels, some being so low she had to crouch slightly. The lair in itself fascinated her, what thief in modern day England would create a hideout by digging earth tunnels? Gnarled roots protruded from the walls and ceilings, giving credit to her assumptions.

After what seemed like an eternity they stopped at an ornately carved wooden door. It swung open gently and she was thrust inside. This room was much brighter and warmer than the corridor she'd come from, with several lit lanterns lining the walls and a large fireplace off to one side. She looked around, intrigued, momentarily forgetting her two child escorts. The room still had low, beamed ceilings but was decorated much more comfortably. A mixture of tapestries and animal skins adorned the walls and you could not see the floor for the number of Persian rugs that covered it; it was how Lynn had always imagined Aladdin's cave would look like. There was an assortment of small wooden tables and benches that lined the room. Every surface glittering and twinkling in the shadow, hinting at some of the added comforts that came with living an illicit life.

The boy in front of her abruptly came to a halt causing Lynn to almost collide into his back. Soon she'd be able to see the one who was responsible for her kidnapping. The two lads moved forwards to stand on either side of a large, elaborately carved ebony throne in front of them. She raised her head to look at the leader of such strange employment and knew that she really shouldn't have been so surprised. Although it was possible that the person sprawled lazily on the throne was the leader's son, she highly doubted it. The respect with which he was addressed him and the overwhelming sense of power this youth emitted made it clear that he was their leader. He stared at her impassively, interlacing his fingers over his stomach.

She stood dumbfounded while one of the boys untied her hands, her eyes never leaving the young leader's face. While she knew how improper it was to stare, she found it impossible to tear her eyes away. He was hardly older than she was. He was lean and muscular and standing up he would probably dwarf her by a good few inches. All of this she could tell at a first glance thanks to the flattering, form-fitting outfit he wore. A well made, but simple tunic and a pair of leggings along with matching leather gloves and boots. All in shades of midnight black. The outfit was so dark it seemed to suck in the light surrounding it. His skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow, being only emphasized by his jet black attire. Lynn looked up at the young man's face and hastily looked down, the frigidness of his gaze and aura of omnipotence finally permeating her thought processes.

"What is your name?" he asked, the timbre of his voice making the air go cold.

"Ll…Lynn, sir," she stammered, "Gwendolyn Darling."

"Gwendolyn. For as long as you remain on my island you are my prisoner and therefore are to abide by my laws." He paused. "Do you understand?"

Lynn nodded dumbly.

"Any misconduct shall be met with severe consequences." He looked away, finished with her.

Lynn marshalled her thoughts enough to speak. "But what of my brothers?" she blurted.

She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin as the young man turned his icy blue eyes on her and glared.

"First rule: _never_ speak without my permission," he hissed. Her view was blocked as the two guards moved forwards to take her away. She did not resist as one grabbed her forearm, the other cutting her bonds. Hardly aware of where she was going, Lynn followed the guards down through a network of stairways and tunnels before finally reaching their destination. They unlocked the door and pushed her into a room furnished just as lavishly as the room above. She wandered over to a row of beds in the corner of the room and fell asleep, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

________________

A/N: Updates should be regular. Reviews are my inspiration ;p


	3. Making Acquaintances

Lynn woke up feeling cold, sore and completely disorientated. Someone had put a blanket over her. Her memories returned to her in a rush. She'd been shoved into this room after she'd met the leader. She sat up, stretching her limbs slowly. Looking around she saw a group of people gathered round a fireplace. Strange, the room had been empty when she first came. She got up and walked towards the welcoming sight of a blazing fire, craving the warmth. She took a seat at the edge of the fireside and stretched her hands out towards it. They were drinking some sort of hot beverage, which they silently passed a mug of to Lynn. She sipped the scalding hot liquid, sneaking glances at the people surrounding the fire. They were all girls. And they all seemed to be the same age as her too, give or take a few years in the case of some. In Lynn's experience this wasn't always a positive thing. But if this was to be her new home she might as well get acquainted with it's other occupants.

She took a deep breath and turned to girl nearest to her.

"I'm Lynn Darling from England, pleased to make your acquaintance."

The girl laughed merrily putting her hand in Lynn's, "I'm Maria Salvador, from Spain. Pleased to meet you too."

"Ada Stroffman, Germany," piped up the girl next to her.

"Lille and Colette Duchamp, France."

"Sonia Grigoriev. Russia." And finally-

"Penelope Cavender," smiled the redhead, "I'm from England too."

Lynn smiled in return, pleased at how things were going so far. Rarely did she encounter such open kindness in the people she met.

"So… where are we exactly?" she asked a little more confidently.

"He calls it Neverland," said one of the twins, "Also known as the Isle of Darkness. I'm Lille by the way," she added.

"The guy who rules it, the one you met, is known as the King of Shadows, or the Dark Prince," put in Colette.

Lynn's eyes widened. That youth was a king? …Or prince? An island? How long had she been unconscious?

"You're saying that young man up there…but how did I get here?"

"We'd better start from the beginning," said Maria, seeing her puzzled face.

The dark haired Russian spoke up first. "Native to this island is a gem of astonishing power. It is the source of the Prince's magical abilities."

"The boys he employs are probably the first children he stole, subservient thanks to the gem earrings he makes them wear. We don't know much else about him. But we do know that there are mines somewhere around here. You can hear the underground rumbling at night, " said Ada.

"So that's where my brothers have gone probably," murmured Lynn to herself.

"Yes. We've never seen them personally coz the Prince keeps a guard on us 24/7. Makes sneaking out impossible," said Penelope.

"Why aren't we in the mines then?"

"Ah. Well, we're basically the Prince's primary form of entertainment. You'll see what I mean," she laughed.

After they had finished talking she helped the girls tidy everything away and they settled down to sleep. Lynn thought about all that she'd learnt so far. According to the girls, she had to help do laundry, clean the rooms, cook the food and gather firewood. Completely forgetting the Prince and the problems he might present, Lynn wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought of doing such lowly chores. Back at home she hardly had to clean herself let alone anything else. She sighed inwardly as she lay on her bed, listening to the even breathing of the five other girls. They'd all been here for periods ranging from 3 months to a year. She didn't know how she'd survive.

One thing that struck her as being odd about the situation was that though they professed to have long given up hope of returning to their families, none of them seemed altogether unhappy at the prospect. In fact, for a bunch of young girls that were technically prisoners, they were positively upbeat. She couldn't fathom it. They all maintained that life here wasn't all that bad once you got used to it, and you hardly ever came in contact with the Prince. Then again, she didn't really know what sort of homes they had all come from. She tossed restlessly in bed, unable to sleep.

What had happened to her brothers? Although all the other girls assured her that the Prince as they called him, wasn't a man of violence, she could not forget the menace in his eyes nor the ferocity of his glare. Were her brothers safe? Were they even in the same place as her? She still found it hard to believe she was on an island, miles away from England. Magical abilities, she scoffed. Who was this Dark Prince? What stopped anyone from leaving this accursed place? So many questions with so few answers.

Finally exhausted and with her head spinning, she fell asleep. Her thoughts still revolving around her brothers who were nowhere in sight and a mysterious black-clad youth with inexplicable power.

______________

A/N: Fastest I've ever posted a story -_-;


	4. The Prince I

**A/N: Thanks to all those who submitted such lovely reviews! Sorry, this chapter took so long to put up ^^;. Enjoy!

* * *

**

It seemed as though she'd only just fallen asleep when she felt a pair of hands shaking her awake. Honestly, the impudence of the servants these days.

"Leave me alone Anna." She pulled the cover over her eyes to shield them from the sudden onslaught of light.

"Close enough. Now get up. The Prince's guards will be here soon." Lynn's eyes flew open in shock. Hovering above her was the burlesque figure of a young German wielding a lantern. Lynn scrambled out of bed and followed Ada to a closet in the corner. The girl rifled through its contents, her speech muffled. "Two guards will be here soon. They'll take you to meet the Prince. Remember what we told you and don't speak unless spoken to. And most importantly, never, ever cry. Here, put this on." She thrust a deep red dress into Lynn's arms and added a hairbrush to the pile. "Comb your hair and wash your face- that's all you have time for right now." She pushed Lynn back towards the curtained sleeping area for a bit of privacy and left saying she was going to get them both some breakfast.

Lynn slapped her cheeks and tried to wake herself up. She fumbled with the buttons of the dress, still half asleep, not wanting to reveal to Ada that she had never gotten dressed by herself before. When the girl returned to minutes later with a bowl of porridge in each hand Lynn was still trying to figure out which hole was for her head.

"What? You're still not dressed yet?" She grabbed the bundle of material from Lynn's clumsy fingers and deftly undid the tiny row of buttons, setting aside the porridge. She yanked the coarse dress off and slid the new one over her head so quickly Lynn had no time to be embarrassed. She finished buttoning up the back of the dress and proceeded to brush her hair. Or pull out tufts of it. "You're going to have to move faster than this if you want to survive. The Prince may not be a violent man but that does not mean he is a patient one." Lynn winced as her heavily knotted hair was straightened and twisted up into a tight bum. Ada turned her around to face the small mirror and looked at her appreciatively, "Well aren't you a pretty one?"

The dress was a bit tight but otherwise looked as though it was made for her. It was even more splendid than some of the dresses she had back at home. It was the colour of blood or fine red wine and brought out a delicate blush in Lynn's pale cheeks. It was also more revealing than Lynn was used to, with her throat completely bare and a neckline that plunged to her waist. The bodice was laced-up with ribbon, allowing the modesty-preserving, wine coloured slip to show underneath. The dress was made predominantly out of sanguine coloured velvet with several layers of silk and chiffon skirts showing in the front due to a slit that ran from just below the waist down to the hemline. A pair of dainty velvet slippers completed the outfit.

At the last minute, Ada decided against the bun and allowed Lynn's hair to tumble down around her shoulders, softening her face. The other girls oohed and ahhed as she emerged and Lynn blushed in embarrassment. Without warning, the door swung open to admit the same two small guards as the night before. Ada squeezed her hand in encouragement. Lynn took a deep breath and walked forwards, her heart hammering in her chest.

As before, there was no communication between her and the guards as they ascended to the Prince's chambers above. Lynn raised her skirts and tried not to trip; thankful she had not been forced to walk in a pair of heels on such treacherously dark stairways. She was grateful for the thickness of the dress and its numerous skirts, the chill starting to get to her and her exposed neck.

She could hear the blood pounding in her ears as they neared the familiar ornate door, just visible in the dark at the end of the tunnel. The young guard in front of her knocked twice and waited for the command to enter. Lynn's throat closed up in fear at the sound of the familiar chilling voice.

The room was exactly as it had been last night with the exception of two new thieves standing on either side of the throne. They were of the same stature as the other two but wore garments of dark blue and green instead. Those, along with their eyes which were blue and green respectively, were the only visible differences for all four of them were otherwise completely identical, down to the stony expressions on their faces.

The Prince was sprawled cross the throne again. His expression was dark and thunderous and his young face lined with a haughtiness that made him look years older. For a moment fear clouded Lynn's mind and she could not for the life of her remember what she was supposed to do. The Prince looked at her suddenly and her brain was kick-started into action. She curtsied quickly with her gaze respectfully lowered as was expected. She held her breath waiting for the Prince to speak. The silence was suffocating.

Finally, the youth deemed it appropriate to make a response. He adjusted his position on the throne and made an approving noise in his throat. Lynn shivered uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of her exposed throat.

"Come closer." She obeyed meekly, feeling every eye in the room focused on her.

One of the grey guards moved suddenly to the door, bolting it shut and standing in front of it, barring her only way of escape. She gulped.

"Sit." She sat on the stool indicated, her skirts fanning out around her. She cleared her throat nervously and began.

* * *

**A/N: Review! :)**


	5. The Prince II

"Well, I must say that this tale was a new one to me."

"I hope that the story was to your grace's liking," she replied respectfully. She'd told him the story of Rapunzel.

"Hmm. Yes, quite. Though I must say I do not quite fully understand all the characters' actions, it was pleasant. Perhaps you would explain them to me."

"If you wish sire."

"Another time then, perhaps," he said, suddenly sounding distracted. "That is all I require for now. You may go." He dismissed her with a wave and the grey guard moved forwards to take her away while the other unlocked the door. She risked a glance at the Prince but quickly looked down when she found his eyes watching her intently. She curtsied and left, her heartbeat still erratic.

***

She lifted her skirts and struggled to keep up with the boys, her mind in a whirl. Lynn was amazed: the Prince had completely changed. It was as though there were two completely different people. His voice was different somehow; warmer maybe, devoid of it's usual chill.

But that hadn't been the only difference, she realised. When she'd looked at him just then, his eyes had been different; orbs of sky blue instead of shards of ice. His skin had also changed; though still very white, it had lost its deathly pallor. It looked as though he really did just use them as forms of entertainment; he certainly seemed to enjoy it. Or was more relaxed for it anyways. Less intimidating.

The trip back to the cellar, as Lynn liked to think of it, was shorter than she'd anticipated and as soon as the door was re-locked behind her she was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.

"How was it? Were you ok? What did the Prince say? I was so worried!" This came from the muffled voice of little Maria, pressing her face into Lynn's chest.

"I'm fine Maria!" she half-gasped, half-laughed, more relieved than she'd thought. They only gave her enough time to change out of her fancy clothes and into a simpler cotton dress before she was dragged to the fireside for an in-depth recount of her meeting with the Prince.

"Well, I was terrified at first but once I'd started I almost forgot I had an audience; the Prince isn't very talkative."

"Even an audience as intimidating as that?" asked Colette incredulously.

"I didn't say I completely forgot them," she laughed, relief making her almost giddy.

"What did he say when you finished?" interrupted Ada.

"Oh. Well I think he enjoyed it; he said he might call for me again." The other girls smiled at this, some even breathed sighs of relief.

Lynn looked from one girl to the other, confused. "What?-"

"Well, you passed so it's ok. But not all the girls that come here do," clarified Ada.

"You see, initially all the girls are sent in here with us. If the Prince is satisfied then, like us, they stay. If he's not, well…"

Lynn's eyes grew wide. They certainly hadn't mentioned this part last night. In fact they all made it out like there would be no problems. Seeing her face Penelope quickly added,

"We didn't want you to worry. Think about it, would you've even been able to speak just now had you known?"

Lynn conceded by her silence that she would not.

"How often do we have to see him?" she asked quietly, her fears returned.

"One girl is sent for every time he comes back. He alternates between us, so at the most, you'll only see him once a fortnight. Told you it wasn't so bad," laughed Maria.

Lynn smiled back half-heartedly. Once a fortnight she'd be put to the test, with her fate to be decided by a lad hardly older than she. She became even more dejected as she thought of her brothers and the unknown trials they were facing.

"Cheer up," said Sonia. "Soon we'll have to begin our chores. And judging by how you couldn't even dress yourself properly, this should be quite a learning experience for you."

The girls laughed at her embarrassed scowls and Lynn, for the moment at least, forgot her troubles once more.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it. Two chapters in one go? Don't _you_ think I deserve a pat on the back? Or review? ;)


	6. Cest La Vie

**A/N: I'm sorry for the age-long hiatus, but one does not switch continents in a day :)… Plus there is always the problem of writer's block. Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this chapter (not to mention it's really long- around 2000 words ;p). So leave tons of reviews alright?**

**Ce La Vie**

_It is dark and silent. She trips on the brambles and thorns underfoot, blind. Shadows creep from the egdes of her vision, writhing and twisting like shrouded demons._

_They watch her. She is a glow in the darkness, a flickering of light._

_There is a sound. She turns. Creatures unseen draw closer, she stumbles, fleeing like frightened prey. Her heart beats loudly; faster and faster she runs. They are getting closer._

_They can smell her fear._

_She feels her strength failing, her breath getting short. The crack of twigs alerts her to their presence. Whether animal or man she is still uncertain. But that is of no consequence now; they have caught her…_

"Rise and shine Princess."

Lynn shot out of bed drenched in cold sweat. Her heart was racing and she could feel the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to rid her mind of the images that were already beginning to fade.

"Lynn, you all right?" asked Penelope, bending down anxiously when she did not get up.

"Yes, I'm…fine. I just had a weird dream I think."

She struggled to recall exactly what the dream had been about. The scenery was dark and the blurred images even harder to make out now that she tried thinking about it. The only solid thing was the sense of fear she had felt; she was sure it had been a nightmare.

"Good. Now, first we have to clean the rooms," explained Ada to the rest of the girls, clapping her hands together, business-like. "There are 11 rooms in total, not including the Prince's main chamber. We will clean only four of them today. You have fifteen minutes to prepare. Go."

Lynn scrambled out bed and mimicked the other girls' actions, folding up the blankets and storing them away in the cupboard; Ada's was already in there. She did take a little longer than the others, having never folded anything larger than a handkerchief but nobody seemed to notice. 15 minutes later, after a simple meal of porridge, the girls lined up by the door, handkerchiefs tied around their heads with each carrying various cleaning implements.

Lynn hurried to the door, a little slower than the others to wash her bowl. Everyone was lined up in pairs she realized belatedly, leaving her standing awkwardly and alone. She fidgeted uncomfortably, half from embarrassment and half from fear of facing a journey outside their quarters alone. Ada stepped forth.

"You go with Sonia," she offered gallantly. "I will go alone."

The other girls cast her looks of amazement and admiration. A fact, it seemed, Ada did not miss as she took her lone place solemnly at the end of the line. Lynn said a quiet, fervent thanks as she passed to stand by Sonia, a little puzzled at the obvious display of chivalry but grateful nonetheless.

A key grated in the lock and the heavy wooden door swung open noisily, revealing one of the young guards, dressed in dark green. Sonia grabbed her hand. Lynn tried not to flinch from the unexpected contact and gradually relaxed into the feel of the other girl's hand wrapped around her own: this appeared to be standard practice when the girls went out.

The girls filed out in pairs to stand beside one of the three other guards waiting for them in the passage. The green clad youth relocked the door and walked to the head of the line holding their only source of light, a single torch, aloft which cast creeping shadows along the walls. He led the procession with a death-like hush to the end of the passage where it branched into three narrower corridors. The line halted and he led the guard first in line, along with Lille and Colette, down the right-hand corridor. The light faded a little as they drew further away and then it vanished altogether, plunging them into darkness. Lynn suppressed a scream.

She felt Sonia squeeze her hand in comfort and she resisted the urge to pull free and run towards the light. The sound of the other girls' even breathing became deafening in the confined space and the walls felt like they were closing in. She couldn't breathe.

Moments later the light returned and she relaxed for a fraction of a second before the next pair of girls were led away and the darkness engulfed them once more. The rapid exchange between dark and light made it impossible for her eyes to adjust and the fear built up in her chest, choking her. It was only the pressure of Sonia's hand that kept her from running when the guard again left.

Finally the guard returned for them and they were led away, leaving Ada alone behind them in the darkness. She could now understand the enormity of the older girl's generous offer.

The guard took them down the final corridor where they soon descended a narrow flight of steps. The walls and ceiling glittered strangely here. He led them to a small, plain door, which he unlocked and lit the lamps in before leaving her and Sonia inside, with his comrade standing guard. The door swung shut and the lock clicked.

It was noticeably colder in this room and the temperature raised goosepimples on Lynn's bare arms. Sonia let out a puff of white breath, hands akimbo.

"Looks like we have the cushion room," said Sonia with distaste, handing Lynn a carpet beater that she procured from the deep pockets of her apron. "It'll take us all day to beat the dust out of these."

The room was crudely but aptly named; anywhere you turned, either cushions, throws, rugs, padded footstools or folded piles of quilted blankets would dominate your view. And they weren't just any ragged pieces of soft furnishings but extremely expensive ones as Lynn had the expert eye to see; crocheted cushions with the most intricate detail and design, luxurious Persian rugs in tasteful hues of deep maroon and gold, and tasseled ottomans covered in delicate paisley designs just to name a few. Added to the number of rugs and pillows in the main hall plus the ones that undoubtedly filled his personal chamber and Lynn estimated that the total amount would fill at least three ballrooms back home. All fruits of his labor no doubt she thought to herself derisively. She whistled, "He sure likes being comfortable doesn't he?"

"You wait till you see the crystal room, now that's a sight worth seeing," said Sonia tying her handkerchief around her mouth and nose. It was time to get to work.

***

Sonia was an experienced manual laborer and therefore had excellent stamina with calloused hands to show for it. Lynn on the other hand had never done a day's work in her life and therefore had the stamina and hands to rival a six month-old infant's.

In the beginning Sonia had been patient, trying to teach Lynn while also trying to lengthen her incredibly short temper. But they did have a job to do and Lynn, as she announced quite blandly, was useless. On top of that, neither of them had any means of determining how long they had left before a guard came to fetch them, which is why Sonia had given her the easier task of sweeping up the dust that settled onto the floor from the sofas and chaise lounges she beat it out of.

Lynn had protested at first but she soon relented when she saw the glint in the other girl's eye. She'd stick to sweeping floors she said.

***

Midway through the cleaning a single knock sounded at the door before it opened and a simple meal of bread and cheese was pushed through. Sonia dusted her hands off on her skirts and retrieved their meals from the door. She placed them on a small side table and pulled two cushions towards it for them to sit on.

"Sit, eat. We can continue afterwards." Lynn was only too happy to comply. Sonia wasn't a talker and Lynn couldn't think of anything to say while her stomach was clamoring for food anyway so they ate in companionable silence.

Although there was nothing similar between this meal and the one she'd have normally, Lynn began to think of home. And as her stomach filled, so did her memories. One by one they trickled through, each bringing a sense of melancholy, no matter what the original feelings attached to the memory were. Birthdays, dances, dinner parties...It was stifling.

An unexpected pain bloomed in her chest and she clutched at her heart, trying to relieve it. She could not tell if it was real or not: whether she was actually ill or if it was just a physical manifestation of her emotions. Sonia looked at her in concern.

"What is wrong? Are you not feeling well?" Lynn shook her head and rubbed the point over her heart.

"No, it's nothing. I'm fine," she said dismissively.

"If you do not feel well you should rest. You will feel better afterwards." Lynn lay down and closed her eyes, trying to dispel the pain as well as the depressing thoughts that had taken hold, suddenly certain they were connected.

She felt even sicker though, watching Sonia do all the work alone while she rested due to an illness that was debatable at best. She grabbed her broom and got back to work.

***

They worked well as a team, so long as they were doing separate jobs. Plus the work took her mind off the pain. It was at the end, the last task of beating the dust out of the cushions, which required two people, when things became tricky. One person would hold the cushion aloft while the other beat out the dust. Lynn did not have the strength for either. And Sonia was getting annoyed.

"What is wrong with you? Can you not hold it properly?!" yelled Sonia for the hundredth time, as the pillow flew out of Lynn's hands and across the room. The angry young Russian threw her hands up and stormed away from her in annoyance, muttering under her breath. Lynn cringed and rubbed her sore hands.

She waited dejectedly for Sonia to return. It wasn't often in her old life that she'd found herself envying the housemaids. Sonia reminded her very much of the head cook, a matronly old woman who was often heard shouting at the new recruits for not having done the job properly.

Sonia's temper soon cooled and she returned announcing that they'd just stack the cushions and not bother dusting them at all. Who would notice, she said.

***

Just as they were stacking the last cushion the door swung open revealing the two guards. Wordlessly the girls picked up their cleaning implements and followed the guard out, dousing the torches before they left.

Lynn could feel the pressure in her chest, that had previously been bearable with the help of manual labor, release the higher they climbed. By the time they'd reached the top of the stairs she was almost feeling normal. She let out a small relieved sigh.

There was one thing she could not completely shake off: the feelings of complete desolation that had consumed her before. They had now been reduced to a small point, consumed but a flicker of her attention. But they were there nonetheless.

Still, they were not the constricting emotions they had been and that made them easy to ignore. She smiled at the other girls as they came into view; people who would soon become her family more than her real family had ever been.

**A/N: Having fun? :)**

"**Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can."-Sting.**


	7. Keeping Promises

Lynn woke up, her head bowed in agony. Her body was wracked with pain and she couldn't think straight. She arched her back and groaned.

"Still feeling the burn?" laughed Penelope.

"I only want to know two things: how much longer do we have to do this and when can stop?" joked Lynn halfheartedly. Her body's aches and pains echoed her masked protest.

Penelope just smiled. Lynn groaned again and threw herself back onto the bed.

Considering her upbringing and how little work she was used to, Lynn had fared quite well; managing to keep up with Sonia was no easy task. But every girl has her limits and Lynn's was approximately 24 hours. After the first day of cleaning the cushion room, she had continued to go with a different girl each day to one of the other eleven rooms in the network of tunnels that was the Prince's castle.

In the beginning she had only felt a little sore after completing the cleaning regiment. The euphoria of having accomplished something and being able to see the fruits of her labor firsthand outweighed any discomfort. Having to repeat the same performance the next day however, proved to be more challenging than she'd expected. And, like all first-time workers before her, she began discovering muscles she never even knew existed. In addition to these muscles materializing out of nowhere, they would hurt like blue murder for hours afterward. Indeed, one only realized they were there through the burning sensation they brought. A feeling like flames were licking the inside of your skin.

To add insult to injury, without even thinking about it- certainly it wasn't a conscious effort- the other girls were proving her to be incredibly dim-witted, even little Maria. How hard was it to empty a dirty pail without spilling it onto you, after all?

Lynn's routine in this new life had become as follows: Get up at unearthly hours of the morning. Have breakfast. Clean till your bones bleed. Eat lunch. Return to room. Collapse on bed. She had begun to inwardly question the well-rehearsed notion that a person born in an aristocratic household, such as she, was smarter than the common folk she was so used to looking down upon. Knowing how to sweep floors and clean clothes had suddenly become far more important than knowing how to sing or play the piano. If anyone had told her that a week ago, she would've laughed- if she'd actually listened at all.

Despite the every day struggle, she was discovering parts of herself she'd never expected to find, parts she'd buried so deep she was surprised how easily they'd resurfaced. Here, in this world where life was simpler, social obligations obliterated and innuendos nonexistent, Lynn had become a real person. Here, no one expected anything from her or expected her to behave in any specified way; she spoke her thoughts instead of an actresses' dialogue, she laughed from deep within her belly instead of polite, forced titters. She cried with her heart instead of just her tears and she didn't have to tuck her fears away like a folded handkerchief purely because dress and decorum decreed it. Here, she wasn't 'Beautiful, charming, perfect-candidate-for-our-son' Lynn. Here she was just Lynn: the girl who ate what she wanted, laughed when she wanted and said what she wanted. She was the young girl she had never been allowed to be.

The idea that a girl as fortunate as she would ever feel sad or lonely, had never once passed through the minds of her parents or her so-called friends and therefore they were not perhaps, all to blame. Lynn was a very subservient girl, always bending to the whims and wills of others without question or complaint. But when people place you on a pedestal of admiration with awe-filled looks and hushed whispers galore, your only friend becomes the occasional stray pigeon who doesn't know enough to stay away.

She sometimes ate dinner if the exhaustion didn't completely consume her, but not often. She rubbed her eyes wearily and stifled a yawn. Today was the only day of the week that they were not expected to be up at the crack of dawn and be dragged around a network of dank, underground tunnels to do menial, mindless tasks. Where the cold was so intense it seeped through your bones and into your very soul, where the darkness clawed at the meager light, filling the periphery of your vision like a monster just out of sight. She shivered and chafed the sides of her arms trying to dispel the thoughts now bombarding her brain.

The pain that had come had not been contained to her first day of labor. Whenever they were made to descend even lower into the earth than they already were, the haunting memories would come again. Stealing as softly and as quietly as a whisper in the night, into her mind and into her heart, bringing with them a maelstrom of emotions that would leave her reeling and breathless. She hadn't dared to ask the other girls if they had felt the same way in their first few days, when they had first been plucked from their homes, as young and as unready as unripe fruit, not wanting to look even more pathetic than she already did, no doubt. She had no explanation for why the homesickness only hit her as hard as it did when she descended, only that it did. She was grateful for the predictable pattern though; it meant that she had learned when to expect the gut-wrenching feelings and could hide them better as a result of it.

She rubbed her bare feet on the fox-skin fur that covered the earthen floor, smoothing the hairs into an orderly fashion. Where had all the animals gone, she wondered. She was no expert in these things, but even she knew that the rabbits and moles and foxes and other furry woodland creatures, lived underground. Burrowing deep into the earth to shelter them from the weather and perils of the outside world. Perhaps they had all been turned into rugs, she thought sadly.

As today was the girls' day off, they were allowed to spend it in any fashion they deemed appropriate as long as it was kept to the confines of their room; the twins were sitting by the fire talking quietly, Penelope was folding blankets with Sonia and Maria was playing with a sack of marbles by the door. They were the picture of calm. Lynn stretched and got up off the bed, fully rested from her nap. She joined the Colette and Lille and poured herself a steaming mug of tea to warm herself up. Just as she was beginning to wander where Ada had got to, the door creaked open and the burly German stormed in, her expression black. The girls shot to their feet in surprise. Ada whipped her head around looking for something and made towards Lynn once she'd caught sight of her. She looked so terrifying that Lynn had to squeeze her knees together to stop them from shaking. What had happened to make her look so thunderous?

The girl gripped her upper arm forcefully and all but dragged her to the closet where the finer clothes were kept. Lynn barely had time to put her mug down before it's piping hot contents spilled over them both. Ada called for Sonia and pulled out a dress of midnight blue, thrusting it into the Russian's arms. She then strode angrily towards the curtained sleeping area, disappeared behind it and didn't say another word. Sonia's mouth set into a thin line and her eyes grew steely. It was clear she did not approve of the other girl's actions. Lynn was so preoccupied with the brief angry exchange that it was only when she was being led towards the door, silk skirts rustling against her legs, that she realized what was going on. She stopped just before the entrance and turned around, the unspoken plea for someone else to take her place written all over her face. Sonia's eyes softened when she saw her fear and she gave Lynn a small, encouraging smile.

"The Prince has called for you especially. You will be fine. Go." She leaned forwards and gave Lynn a firm but fleeting hug before handing her over to the guards.

Lynn saw the other girls peering out anxiously at her for a brief moment. Then the door swung shut and she was hurried through low-ceilinged corridors and up winding staircases, bringing her closer to the youth responsible for her unexpected summoning. Finally, they reached the ornate wooden door and Lynn's heart hammered in her chest as though trying to break free, the same way it had the first time. The young boy in front of her knocked and her heart froze at the sound of the chilling voice that answered. That voice which was so new to her yet as familiar as her own.

She entered the room and walked forwards, her head inclined. She curtsied respectfully, still not raising her face, and rose slowly when he gave nod in acknowledgment. She waited for the Prince to speak, the pounding of her heart so loud it she was sure no words would be audible over it. The silence seemed to stretch on forever before she realized he was waiting for _her_ to speak.

"You called for me, sire?" She was amazed her voice did not shake more.

"You do not remember our agreement?" he asked, the timbre of his voice never failing to send a shiver down her spine. Lynn racked her brains to try recall said agreement- and came up empty handed. She took a deep breath.

"I apologize, my lord, but I have forgotten. If you could remind me of our agreement I will do my best to fulfill it," she replied respectfully, the tremble in her voice now evident.

She held her breath; her history books had been keen on detail when it came to monarchs and the punishments they ruled out for their insolent subjects.

"Very well," he said, drawing out the words. "You had agreed to explain the perplexing actions of the characters in your story. Do you not recall?"

She exhaled a relieved gust and finally raised her head. "Which character would you like to know about first?" she asked smiling, now that she knew she was in no danger.

The Prince looked at her from behind a mask of jet-black feathers edged with jewels, mild disbelief clouding his face. Her smile vanished instantaneously and she lowered her head once more, thinking her rash display of emotion the reason behind the Prince's countenance. She must have imagined it however, for when she next looked up the expression had disappeared and in its place was his usual facade of cold indifference.

She took her low place beside him and waited patiently for him to begin, her own face carefully neutral. She mentally berated herself for not being more watchful of her reactions; the ease of expressing herself around the girls had undone countless etiquette lessons that had been driven into her all her life. She vowed not to slip up so carelessly again.

The Prince stared at her intently, the tips of his fingers just touching, forming a bridge over the lower half of his face. She could feel his gaze, prickly on her skin and thought back to her lessons; maintain slow even breaths, do not show that you are aware of anything: ignorance is your closest ally. She counted to ten, she sang songs in her head; anything to escape the intense scrutiny she was being subjected to. For a moment, the scenario was so similar to the ones she'd experienced back home that it was almost as though she were simply at a dinner party, feigning ignorance while her parent's high-ranking friends ogled at her from across the room, assessing her worth. She completely forgot her worries pertaining to the Prince's power and any cruelty he might inflict while the thought of maintaining a good image was all that occupied her mind. She stole fleeting, sideways glances from the corners of her eyes just as she'd been taught. The Prince seemed lost in thought. She looked back down at her lap just in time and wrestled with her own thoughts, refusing to believe that a single smile on her behalf could evoke any reaction from such a youth. He touched the corner of his mask and spoke.

"Let us begin with the father. Answer me this: why did he agree to surrender his newborn even when he knew his wife would not agree? Surely in stories like this all persons are noble and honorable?"

It appeared he was going to be gregarious and communicative tonight, she thought to herself. She took courage from this and answered him as her nurse had answered her, her voice more steady.

"Not all fairy-tale characters are noble and true, my lord. Some, like the father, would rather save themselves than an infant of their own flesh and blood. Perhaps he had not wanted the child, but only succumbed to his wife's relentless requests."

"What was the name you gave to this tale?" he asked abruptly.

"Fairy-tales?" she asked, unsure of herself. "It is only the name we give stories of old, untrue tales made to satisfy young children at night," she went on, trying to remedy the situation.

The Prince did not reply but something in his expression darkened and the eyes behind the slits in the mask seemed to grow even more glacial and distant. "'Tis a befitting name," he said at last. She did not comment on this strange remark.

His head snapped up. "Your analysis is acceptable. Now, as for the witch, what use would a girl be to her if she were kept imprisoned in a tower?"

She pondered this for a minute. The Prince was a much more attentive listener than she had ever been and she had to think up an answer that would hopefully satisfy him; there was no script to follow now.

"I do not think she meant to use the girl at all; her kidnapping was just a means of punishment intended for her parents," she said. She paused as a new idea occurred to her. "Though perhaps the witch was not as mean as the story made her out to be; perhaps she was protecting the girl," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

"Explain." She looked up and found the Prince's unflinching gaze fastened on her. She blushed in surprise and stared at her lap, stumbling on her words as she spoke.

"W-what I meant was what if the witch wasn't as evil as the story made her out to be? After all, constructing a tower for a mere prisoner is quite extravagant and Rapunzel was not of royal descent nor intended for ransom. What if she was protecting her from the prince who only meant her harm?" She stopped talking abruptly, fearing she had spoken too liberally and waited for the Prince's reply.

She braced herself for the derisive remarks he would give and how he would berate her for her impudence and stupidity as her parents and tutors had before him. She flinched out of habit.

So lost was she in her apprehension that she missed the momentary glance the Prince cast towards her bent, anxious form; missed the flicker of regard that passed over his face.

"Perhaps," was all he said.

Again she raised her head, her morale and spirit left unbroken. She glanced at him through her eyelashes; he was rested against the back of his throne, arms carelessly caressing the sides of the chair. His mask, the colour of night, gave his face its deathly pallor. She could no longer recall his face, nor could she remember if she had ever seen it at all. There was a blot in her memory, a hole where his face was.

She could feel the fearlessness and tranquility rolling off him in waves and she automatically relaxed in return. She could sense both the power and the arrogance that was the essence of his being, but it was laced with holes; empty spaces Lynn could not quite identify. Whether it was loneliness, misery, or sorrow, she could not tell.

His eyes seemed bluer behind the mask.

"Regardless of intention and purposes," he continued, pulling her out of her thoughts. "It is improbable that the maiden's tears alone could have cured him of his blindness. Just as unlikely is the possibility, that on the basis of a single encounter, they would agree to live- how was it you phrased it?"

Lynn allowed herself a little laugh. "Happily ever after? It is the customary way to end stories of its caliber. Just as 'once upon a time' is used to open them."

The Prince regarded her intently, his face not giving anything away. The whiteness had left Lynn's cheeks and they were tinged with a rosy glow. Her eyes, though still downcast, were warm in the flickering flames of the torches and her posture was casual and relaxed; she was enjoying herself.

Uncalled, a guard approached them and she rose, knowing it was time for her to take her leave. The Prince had not said a word. She curtsied low and turned around, his silent but watchful gaze following her out of the room.

**A/N: My chapters are getting longer and longer- 3000+ words this one! Makes editing hell, so I apologize if there are any mistakes but I won't go back to fix 'em ;p**


	8. In Happiness and Hardship

The silence settled amongst them like damp, swirling mist. It filled their ears and stopped their tongues. She would not rise to the bait.

Maria watched the two girls with wide, fearful eyes. She was experiencing severe inner turmoil: on one hand was the strong, brave Ada whom she adored with the reverence of an idolizing younger sister. But on the other there was sweet, gentle Lynn with her calm ways and soothing voice and who was so confused about everything still. Who should she support? She lifted her fork to mouth, hardly aware of what she was putting into her mouth, her eyes traveling back and forth across the table to each girl's face. She watched and waited, like all the others, to see how the battle would ensue.

The blow fell just before they got into bed. "So how does it feel to be the Prince's favourite?" sneered Ada, her temper finally brimming over.

"I don't know what you're talking about Ada," replied Lynn , back carefully turned, tone guarded.

"Don't think you can lie to me!" seethed the girl, her face turning an angry scarlet. "Why else would the Prince send especially for you?"

"Leave her alone Ada. She has done nothing wrong! You know none of us decide whom the Prince calls for," said Sonia stepping forth, eyes flashing. Ada folded her arms and huffed, stalking off to her own personal corner. Lynn climbed into her own bed trembling fiercely. She had never had to fight with anyone before and she did not like it. Fights in her world and class were usually fought using tactics of deciet and cunning, never a face-to-face row- those were saved for quarelling lovers. Sonia was still bristling as she lay down next to her. Clearly she was no stranger to this manner of settling things. But the day's experiences were too much for the inexperinced Lynn and she sank quickly into blissful oblivion.

* * *

_She is running again. Her feet are bloodied and bruised, her mind warped with fear. The moon lights a path for her feet to tread while the darkness makes a meal of her courage. Her pursuers are gaining on her, their breath fierce and animal._

_They start out as whispers, the quiet speech of leaves in the wind. They grow louder with every step. Friends, she thinks, leading her to a glimmer in the darkness; to safety. Voices high and clear, like the tinkling of bells. They urge her forward, pulling at her; at her feet, her hair._

_She is at the mouth of a cave. There is light in its depths._

_The voices come louder now, more urgent, like the noise of an oncoming train. She walks forwards, towards the flickering._

_The moon casts light on the figure. She sees a girl crouched. She stares like a wild thing. She is frightened, wary. Her hair is lank and tangled, her skin pale and sunken. Her eyes are orbs of glass. Dead._

_She reaches out to touch her. The creature looks up and shatters._

Not for the first time, Lynn awoke with a scream in her throat. She mopped the sweat off her brow and shook her head to clear it. Whatever the dream had been this time, she did not want to recall it. She looked around and saw the candles that they used to keep time had burnt down to mere stubs of wax; the others would soon be up. Acting on a whim she decided she'd make breakfast.

It took her a good fifteen minutes to get everything set up. First she had to find where the porridge was kept and what it looked like (she had no idea it was so dry before it was cooked but luckily she _had_ been blessed with the ability to read) and then how to get it going once she'd found it. Another five minutes were spent getting the fire hot enough, but she got there in the end. She sighed in relief that she'd gotten up as early as she did before starting; her making breakfast for the first time was not something she wanted the others to see. By the time the first heads were emerging from sleep, the porridge was a nice thick consistency and was bubbling away happily on the hearth.

She handed each drowsy girl a steaming bowlful with a nervous smile. Most of the girls simply filed past with only a nod of acknowledgement, too sleepy to form a coherent answer. Her smile only got wider when she saw that most of the girls took a second mouthful with no fatal consequences. She turned to give the next girl in line her portion and her smile froze when she saw the golden locks out of the corner of her eye. _Keep calm,_ she intoned to herself. _Be civil_. She just managed to keep her smile in place, the corners of her mouth trembling imperceptibly. She needn't have bothered, however, for Ada hardly spared her a glance, moving towards the kettle to make herself a cup of tea instead.

Lynn sat down, her porridge cooling in her hands, her happiness quickly ebbing away. Penelope, ever vigilant, immediately remedied the situation. "Wasn't it lovely for Lynn to wake up especially early to make us all breakfast?" chirped the redhead brightly. The girls all nodded, quickly cottoning on and smiling at Lynn . Those who weren't half asleep even managed a grateful 'thanks'. Lynn beamed, grateful to this roomful of girls who had opened their hearts and kindness to her so generously.

* * *

And so life returned to normal. For a few blessed days, nothing eventful happened; Lynn even managed to ignore Ada's glares. And with the cheerful faces of her friends around her, and Sonia's assuring words that Ada would soon come to her senses(not that she agreed) she found herself functioning normally and quite well at that: she now cringed in remembrance as to how useless she had been at doing the most menial tasks. Lynn liked to call it living. Strange as it may seem, this monotonous new life felt more real to her than her old one. Perhaps it was because she was needed here, wanted here, for both her body- for the work it could do; and her mind, for the person people wanted to get to know. She was content. The life of a servant as she was beginning to think of herself, was never easy but it could not be denied that it was fulfilling. That as a person you were actually useful and making an impact on those around you by the doing of your own two hands and not attributes you had no hand in crafting. She no longer tossed and turned and turned in her sleep wracked with guilt, contemplating the consequences of a comment made on her behalf, or what her parents had in mind for her: as a daughter she would not be continuing the family lineage, but what honor it would bring to the family if she was the beautiful lady wife of the honorable (and more importantly grossly wealthy) Lord R-! No, instead she fell asleep tired to the bone but with peace of mind.

Time waits for no one as Lynn knew already and as the day when one among them would be chosen to entertain the Prince got closer, Ada's face grew darker and darker and her glares grew more and more fierce. The majority of these glares she directed towards Lynn as though daring her to be chosen. _Personally_, Lynn thought to herself, _I just want the selection to be over and done with: that way Ada can either hate me outright and leave me in peace, or not hate me and then things can go back to normal_. She was lying.

For when the day actually came she was as tense as anyone else. The locked turned with a deafening click and the two silver guards entered. The girls held their breath. One of the boys raised a finger and swung it around the room, perusing over them in selection. Lynn 's heart skipped a beat as he passed over Ada without stopping. All eyes were trained on the slim white finger as it made its path across the room. Lynn squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Maria's hand as the finger neared her. There was a gasp. She opened her eyes fearing the worst and saw the finger not pointed at her, but at Maria. The girl was frozen in shock.

She felt the little girl's hand tremble in her grasp before Sonia and Penelope whisked her away to get dressed. Relief washed over Lynn like a ray of sunshine, filling her up and warming her from the inside. It was not her! Her torment was over! But one look at Maria's small, frightened face and the relief cooled into guilt almost instantly. Penelope was whispering what few words of comfort she could before, looking like a child in her mother's clothes, Maria was taken away.

Once the door had been pulled shut Lynn , still feeling guilty, quickly stepped over to Penelope who was seated on the chest containing the 'Prince's clothes' and rubbing her face tiredly.

"Why was Maria so afraid? Hasn't she been called to the Prince before?" asked Lynn , slightly confused.

"Once," came the weary reply. "When she first arrived."

"But I thought he called for one of us at least once a week?"

"Yes, but so far it hasn't ever been her. She's only been here for a couple of months at most. And then you arrived…I guess she sort of forgot that one day she might be called." Lynn examined the girl's usually bubbly face and found the green eyes to be welling with tears.

"Pen, what's the matter?" she asked, shocked. Maria was in no danger, surely. Why was she so upset?

"Well, she looked so scared and…" sniffled the redhead.

"Nonsense," said Sonia striding in. "You have nothing to fear and neither does Maria. Lynn came out all right didn't she? Maria will be fine." The Russian pulled her up by the arm and told her to wash her face, her tone on the verge of scolding.

Having nothing else to occupy her, she went around the room trying to order her thoughts. Lille and Colette were conversing quietly amongst themselves as usual and Ada had finally stopped glaring. Penelope had just about calmed down and Sonia had returned to her task of preparing dinner; everyone was just as they usually were. And yet, it still felt as though there were teetering on the edge of something, in perilous danger. What lay beyond that edge Lynn did not know but she was sure that it would be unpleasant. She wandered around the room feeling restless, unable to shake the feeling that something was not right. She sat by the hearth knowing Sonia would not appreciate her clumsy help and waited, feeling as unsettled as a fishing boat in a storm.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the locked turned and in came Maria, a little pale but otherwise fine. Penelope reached her first, gripping the girl's hands.

"What happened? Are you okay? What'd the Prince say?" said Penelope, the questions flying off her tongue. Maria laughed.

And the balance returned. The sensation was similar to your ears popping after a swim.

"I'm okay. Really," laughed Maria, a little shakily. "He gave me something to drink to calm my nerves then asked me a couple of question. Just general things like how I was finding things and stuff."

They walked with their arms linked, chatting as they went.

* * *

Lynn knew better than most that she would not receive an apology from Ada- not that she expected one of course. In high society, girls were known to commit heinous crimes- stealing one anothers' dress designs, spreading grotesque rumors about their 'friends' behind their backs- and then go about afterwards as though nothing had happened. Or worse, go around with false smiles, oozing with sympathy and then place the blame on some other innocent soul; usually someone with a smaller family inheritance than their own. She personally preferred this approach: both girls knew what had happened and they were ready to put it behind them. In short, Lynn was just glad it was over.

The week came and went, the days flying by like hours, and before they knew it the door was being unlocked once again for one to ascend from their well-furnished prison and entertain their captor. They all waited, not as scared as they used to be: they'd all had their turns with the Prince now. Lynn didn't mind who got picked but she hoped it'd be Ada for the sake of returning things to the way they were before all the drama had started.

Lynn still needed to learn how different this life was from her old one.

This time she did not need nor receive any help getting dressed. She slipped the luxurious folds of material over her head and arranged her hair as best as she could, keeping her gaze fixed on the ground and her mind forcefully blank. She kept her head bowed and exited the room. She did not know how the girls had reacted and did not want to just yet: the Prince was waiting for her. The girls could wait.

He was clothed in cloths of night, his eyes a pale, icy blue as they always were when the night began. However mesmerizing they may have been, tonight Lynn could not see any of it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Emotions that she tried to suppress, to obliterate in order to attend to the possibly life-threatening task at hand before this youth who at first glance would seem no more threatening than she, but her body knew otherwise, even if her mind did not, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But her mind would not cooperate no matter how hard she tried. By refusing to sift through her feelings she had forfeited control. She told him the one about Cinderella, perhaps subconsciously thinking about the radical changes made in her own life, if not wishing for a happy ending as well. By the end of her telling she had surrendered to the torrent of emotion she was being subjected to and sat impassive, beyond caring tonight if the Prince would respond or if he would send her away. The Prince sat, steeped in thought. The room was silent.

"This is another of your 'fairy-tales'?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, not meaning to, but sounding curt.

Behind his feathered mask the Prince regarded the girl kneeling by him, his eyes narrowed in mild annoyance.

"Speak."

Lynn raised her head, thoroughly confused. On top of everything she did not need this twisted speach of his. "About what, sire?"

He stared at her as though it was obvious. Indeed, it would be beneath him to reveal the meaning behind his command. When it seemed that she truly did not understand, confusion clouding her emerald green eyes, he spoke again.

"What is troubling you?" he clarified.

She started. "Nothing, sire. Nothing is troubling me." Was her displeasure so apparent on her face? His mocking glance told her that it was. And why would he care? Surely if a servant, or court jester as she was acting, was impertinent than they were sent away, not asked what sort of mind set they were in or why; once upon a time she would've done exactly that. What could she say, besides? That she was experiencing turmoil the likes of which he'd probably never felt before, her insides twisted with the force of it's grasp? That she was unhappy because of the constant struggle there was because of her, because of his apparent favour of her? Apart from how conceited, and from his point of view ungrateful, it would sound she did not know what sort of action he would take in response to her claim, what sort of effect it may have on the other girls.

It was risky but in desperation she tried to turn the question around, and perhaps in that way indirectly give him his answer. "If I may be so bold as to ask," she began, her voice barely louder than a whisper, "But why did your highness call for me again?"

"Again?" he asked.

"What I meant was… you called for me before and then again today…" she trailed off, embarrassment suddenly blooming among the myriad of other emotions.

"If I remember correctly I did not call for you last," he said, stroking his smooth chin in apparent thought.

Lynn 's face turned a fiery shade of scarlet and she looked down, mortified. Repeating her words inside her head she could see how presumptuous and arrogant she'd sounded.

"Hmm, when was it? A fortnight ago? A month maybe?" he continued. Lynn 's face burned and burned. She had to remedy this disaster somehow.

"Please sire," she begged desperately. "I was mistaken. Forgive me." He smiled an imperceptible smile that might not have been all that mocking and possibly more than a little amused. Though of course Lynn did not catch it in her futile attempts to hide her blush.

"Very well. What would you like me to question you about instead?" he asked, tone neutral.

"Anything. I will answer anything you ask," she replied hurriedly, still mortally afraid he would go on.

"Anything? Let us hope you will not come to regret that decision." There was no smirk on his handsome features and the mask concealed well the mischief that may or may not have glinted bright in his azure eyes.

And so the questioning began. More often than not he would ask about the subject of the stories she told him and the obvious layout of them all so far: the sad beginning, the struggle with evil towards in the middle and finally the triumphant hero with the 'happily ever after' ending. Sometimes he would come out with random questions, she herself not seeing how they were connected to the previous one. He seemed to always find fault with the endings- severely faulted though they were- often coming close to scoffing out loud; his incredulous views of them he made no secret. Lynn often had to stop laughs from escaping her now smiling mouth with a fist quickly stuffed in it to quell the joyous sounds. He often had such strange views on the most ordinary and uninteresting topics- to her at least. The Prince on the other hand seemed to find them fascinating. By the end of the night when his well of questions had finally run dry, Lynn reflected upon herself and was surprised. It had been long time since she had laughed so freely for the atmosphere in the girls' room that past week had hardly held occasion for joy.

After she was well exhausted, having often to stop and think of answers to questions she'd never pondered on before, he dismissed her reminding her once again of the agreement she had made. She left considerably more at ease than when she had entered. She bobbed a low curtsy and left, the Prince, though still impassive, also seeming more relaxed. But as she descended the narrow corridor, head bent to avoid the roots hanging overhead, her face slowly fell as she thought of the scene she would soon encounter.


	9. The Price of Favour

The guard turned the brass key in the lock, swinging the heavy wooden door open. The old door was loud and creaky on its hinges, a clearly audible and unwelcome announcement of her arrival. Lynn kept her head bowed, unable to meet anyone's gaze which still clothed in the finery that marked her out as the Prince's favourite.

She clenched fistfuls of chiffon, lace and silk in her hands, her knuckles going white from the effort of not letting them shake. She could feel all eyes on her as she made her lonely procession through the room and to the closet, eyes that burned holes in the back of her head as she turned.

How could she explain to them? She asked herself as she undid the clasps on the back of the dress. So far the Prince had asked for her… 1, 2, 3 times, she counted, her own hand going up to her mouth in surprise. Three times? Already? No wonder Ada was furious. She pulled out the comb from her hair. But what was she to do? What could she do? As Sonia had already said, if was not they who decided for whom the Prince called for. She pulled her scratchy linen dress over her head and covered her face with her hands. What was she to do? Perhaps not all the girls felt that way, murmured a quiet, hopeful voice in the back of her head. She raised her head and stepped out into the main space, taking confidence in this statement. But its negative counterpart was hovering on her conscious like a malicious sprite, biding its time until she was defenseless and weak- then it would attack.

She spied Penelope by the fire, talking cheerfully to Maria. If she still had a friend, she was sure it would be found in either the kind-hearted redhead or little Maria.

She took a deep breath. "Hey, Pen, Maria. Mind if I join in? " She asked, her voice betraying her hesitation. She crossed her fingers behind her back and waited for their answer as Penelope turned to face her.

"Of course you can," came the girls' simultaneous reply. "Here, sit down." They patted the floor space beside them and Lynn sank down, her shoulders sagging in relief. So she hadn't been made a complete outcast in her absence. The girls conversed freely and naturally until it was time to eat.

Sonia handed out the plates and served them each a bowlful of stew along with freshly baked bread. The girls ate in silence, the only sound being the scraping of spoons on bowls and the slurping of soup. Lynn glanced up at Sonia, sitting at the head of the table, the place reserved for the maker of the meal. She seemed happy; everyone was enjoying the food. Even Ada had the corners of her mouth turned up as she slurped down her meal.

Lynn pushed her spoon around her plate, contemplating her next move. In the short time that she'd been back she'd discovered that by some miracle she'd managed to keep Penelope and Maria as her friends. If by some benevolent twist of fate she got to keep Sonia too then she swore to whatever being presenting her these miracles that she wouldn't ask for anything more. She took a mouthful of stew for confidence and spoke.

"The stew's really good Sonia," she started hesitantly, glancing at the girl's face to see how she'd react. Ada glared at her and for a moment Lynn was caught off guard, her face betraying the hurt and shock she felt. She shook her head and gathered her wits about her once more, trying again.

"It really does," ploughed on Lynn, trying to ignore the fierce looks that were being sent her way. "Did you add something new?"

"Why yes," replied Sonia, a little surprised but smiling nonetheless at the comment. "My mother always said to add cinnamon to a dish made it all the sweeter," she laughed. "I'm surprised you could pick it up," she remarked.

"I may not have appreciated cleaning in my old life, but I can't say I didn't appreciate the food," joked Lynn, still a little nervous. To her delight however, Sonia laughed along, finally diminishing her fears that a rift had been created between them.

As the evening progressed, she found time to speak with the twins as well, finding that they too had no major issues with her. They still complained about her lack of household knowledge and may have been slightly more cautious in their answers than before but not very much so. To Ada she did not dare approach for fear of inciting another massive feud or having her head bitten off. Thus she returned to bed feeling, for the most part, content that her friendships had remained intact even in her absence.

However there was one small thing that continued to nag at her: no one had brought up the subject of the Prince. Usually, when a girl returned from her visit she was pounced upon by the others to relinquish details of her meeting with their mysterious captor. Not a single one of them had asked. The bed creaked as she turned.

But perhaps that was a good thing. Certainly, the last time she'd been asked for details things had not gone at all well; Ada's continued coldness towards her was a glaring reminder of that. Well, so long as the girls remained her friends she didn't mind whether she was asked for details or not. Memories of how her most recent conversation with the Prince had begun rose to the surface. Perhaps it would be better after all if they did not talk about the visits.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The next day began as usual and they lined up in pairs in the dark corridor. She had been paired with Maria today, the twins were together and Sonia was paired with Penelope. The Russian girl threw irritated glances at Ada who had insisted on going alone again, refusing Sonia's generous offer to go alone instead. The act of 'generosity' had escalated so much that by the time the guards had arrived the two were glaring daggers at each other, Sonia having just revealed that the reason she'd wanted to go in Ada's stead was because the German had such a hard time getting over it.

Lynn waited in the dark, not sure who was gripping whose hand more tightly- her or Maria, and thought about what 'it' might be. So the others also felt the grief she felt down there? How had they managed to conceal them so well? That overwhelming feeling of sadness and depression that only with every fibre of her being she had managed not to fall to her knees, howling for relief.

She shook her head free of these miserable thoughts and walked forwards, hand-in-hand with Maria, into the impenetrable darkness.

By the end of the week she finally felt like one of the other girls, that finally she had the right to call herself one of them. She remembered how she had used to hide her tear-stricken face, seal off those feelings that if given free reign would undoubtedly reduce her to nothing short of an emotional catastrophe. She still hid those feelings but with each passing day, having been forced to submerge herself in them, the pain had lessened. The memories had begun to leave less of a sting. No, that wasn't true. It still hurt: she'd just gotten better at handling them. _They'd_ helped her get better at handling them. There was no denying it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Here, Penny," she said, holding out the dress she'd been working on. "Let's see how it fits now."

She waited, crossing her fingers as her redhead friend changed behind a screen. "I must say," came Penelope's muffled voice. "You're much better than when you first got here. Look."

She stepped out from behind the screen and twirled in the dress, modeling it. "Look how nicely it fits," she said smiling brightly. Lynn flushed with pleasure and tried to not let it show by fussing with the dress.

"The bodice is still too loose here," she said trying to pin it in a little.

"Nonsense," dismissed Penelope, taking hold of her hands. "It's perfect Lynn. Thank you." And with that she pulled the Black Beauty into a bone-crushing embrace.

Lynn froze in shock but quickly returned the gesture. She leaned into the other girl trying to pour into that one unexpected hug all the gratitude and love she felt towards her. All too soon though Penelope broke away, declaring that she was going to show to the others just how good Lynn had gotten with the needle. Lynn looked at the room at large feeling strangely bereft but still happy.

She walked over to the group of girls oohing and ahhing over her mediocre piece of needlework, just taking it all in.

* * *

It was funny she thought, how a situation could change so dramatically with just three little sounds. All it took was three loud knocks and the whole room could fall silent, all eyes simultaneously turning towards the large wooden door and then almost in the same instant turning to face her. They'd all tried to hide it, it was but a moment's glance before they'd all hurriedly averted their gaze but she caught it. They'd moved away as she left, dressed in the finest silks and furs for it had gotten chilly of late, not meeting her gaze and none of them speaking one word to her before she left.

This time she hurried up the earth steps, her skirts sweeping the floor as she walked, a new emotion coursing through her. Why did it always have to be that just as she was enjoying herself _something_ had to go wrong? She cursed herself for her own bad luck and made sure that her distress was well hidden away before meeting the Prince.

She curtsied respectfully before taking her designated seat, her skirts fanning out around her.

A few minutes into the evening however, and she quickly found herself being forced to drop her façade.

"I tire of this," said the Prince, irritation colouring his voice. "Enough. I shall send for another."

"No! Please sire, I beg of you," pleaded Lynn, "I shall try harder." Distressed not only that she had upset the Prince so, but she was also mortally afraid of what would happen to her should she be 'sent away'. Early memories of the girls' forewarning came to mind.

The Prince sat in silence, eyes still hidden but his displeasure etched deeply elsewhere in his face. She took a steadying deep breath and decided that as honesty had worked for her in the past it would probably work in her favour again.

"I am…concerned, sire," she began, eyeing the Prince's expression which did not change.

She tried again. "I feel guilty that I… may be neglecting my other duties…" she trailed off not knowing how to continue. She was determined not to bring any mention of the other girls into the conversation and if she did that she mentioned them as little as possible.

Unfortunately this seemed to be the wrong approach.

"Your 'duties'-," he began, "-are to me. Any neglect you may be showing is only when in the presence of myself, which, I do not hesitate to add, is precisely what you are doing." As the Prince continued to glower at her, she shrank further into her seat feeling thoroughly miserable; any attempt to save her friends resulted in her taking a lashing.

"Forgive me, sire." The Prince did not respond, unmoved by her apology.

What was she to do? She weighed the pros and cons as quickly as she could in her mind: on one hand she had her own fate to think about. On the other hand there was the fate of the five or so girls who may or may not be in danger as a result of her revealing her true woes and at the same time somehow managing to placate the Prince as well.

She took a chance, taking care to keep her tone flattering. He may be a youth of immeasurable power, but a boy was boy as her governess had always said- be he a pauper or a prince.

"It's just… I fear that in having the honour of entertaining your grace a second time, the other girls may feel you… favour me especially."

"I fail to see your point," replied the Prince curtly.

Still feeling uncomfortable, Lynn tried to explain, her reasons sounding feeble in her head as she tried to make sense of them. "I fear they may get… "

The Prince stared coldly and she sighed internally, suddenly deciding to give up the pretense.

"I feel guilty that you choose me over them. I fear they are jealous and perhaps resent me for it. I fear that they may begin to fear me for spending so much time in your presence- more so than any of them." She said all of this in a rush, not knowing where the words came from but knowing them to be true. She looked down at her hands clasped on her lap and refused to think about what she might have just done.

"And?" he asked.

"And?" she repeated, forgetting in her confusion to keep her gaze lowered.

"What of it? I still do not see any clear explanation."

"Well…I am…concerned; I do not want to lose them as friends," she said, slightly bewildered and beginning to forget what explanation she was supposed to be giving.

"So for them you would be willing to forsake your duties to me? To remain in their favour you, would risk falling out of mine?" his tone deadly cold and menacing.

"No!" exclaimed Lynn, terrified. The Prince fixed her with a frigid gaze, that even through the heavily adorned mask, raised goosebumps on her bare skin. Her heart raced, adrenaline pumping fiercely through her veins. As his eyes like shards of ice bore into her, every pore in her body screamed at her to run. But she could not run.

She took a minute to regain her composure, her voice shaking. "Of course not, sire. Forgive me. Truly I have neglected my duties to you. Please, allow me one last chance to earn your forgiveness." Her voice faded to a whisper, reduced to the brink of tears. "Please," she begged.

She sat in her seat, now quivering with fear. How could she have been so obtuse? Had she really forgotten how powerful the Prince was, how unquestionably he held her fate? Like a silken thread twisted around his fingers, the slightest pressure on his part would leave her limp and broken.

"Very well," he said, his tone still icy. "Begin."

She cleared her throat slightly and began to speak, her mouth framing the words of the story she had recounted to herself so often that many a time her mind could have gone wandering.

But being seated so close to the Prince she was constantly reminded of the power he contained and how insignificant she was in comparison. She threw herself into her story-telling, becoming one with the characters and their lives; their aches became her aches, their excitement filling her with hope, their loves becoming her own. So fully did she immerse herself into her narrative, so desperately did she want to show the Prince that she was earnest in her efforts, that by the tale's teary end her surroundings were not of that of the Prince's dark and dreary chambers but of a brightly lit wedding chapel, lilies and roses adorning the walls, smiling parents waving at her as she passed.

As the story ended the spell broke and Lynn was lifted out of her trance. She lifted a hand to her cheek and found it to be wet, hastily brushing away the tears. She lowered her gaze respectfully, waiting for the Prince to make his comments.

The Prince leaned back in his chair; so slight was his frame that the old throne did not even creak as he did so. She waited.

"You intrigue me," he said at last, his tone finally more mellow. "How is it, that you are able to evoke such emotion in yourself when it is not even happening to you?"

Lynn swallowed the nervous laugh that filled her throat. "I suppose I try to think like the characters; to them it is real." She did not dare destroy the Prince's mood by asking whether she was forgiven or not.

The Prince sighed imperceptibly. "Calm yourself; you have no reason to fear."

Lynn let out a breath she did not realize she was holding in. "Thank you, sire," she murmured fervently.

* * *

She tied the handkerchief around her head and grabbed her mop and bucket. She moved silently to her place and waited with the others for the guards to collect them. This time there was no reassuring grip that encased her hand as the darkness engulfed her. There was no comforting presence of another as she washed the walls of the room filled with expensive cutlery and china ornaments. There was no one to share her given meal of bread and cheese as she sat on the cold hard floor to rest. There was no one to distract her thoughts as they wandered down depressing avenues and squeezed fresh tears out of her eyes.

They had been wary of her when she returned, as before. But after her harrowing evening with the Prince she'd just been too tired to explain. All the fears she'd expressed to the Prince had been real and she could see the honest truth in them now. The other girls _were_ afraid of her; they did resent her slightly. As the weeks went by they became more anxious of her, more careful with their answers than usual until she no longer felt comfortable around them at all.

By the second week she relieved them of having to make the difficult decision of who would be sent to clean with her, alone with her for an hour or more, forced to make polite conversation. They were fearful of one who spent so much time in the presence of their formidable captor. And although they knew that it was the Prince who decided who visited him they could not understand what drew him to her and why he would ask for her without fail, week after week.

It had been almost a month now. She'd tried at first to juggle keeping both her friends and the Prince content. But that had proved to be an almost impossible task. She couldn't enjoy being in the Prince's company without gaining disapproving looks from the girls. Nor could she enjoy the girls' company for she only felt guilty afterwards when she was called to see the Prince. And, as she had learned the hard way, that was a possibly life-threatening position to be in.

So she'd taken the easy way out; she'd stopped trying to keep them both happy. She just couldn't do it, not without tearing herself apart. In the presence of the girls she isolated herself, severing all possibilities of guilt and shame when the Prince called for her next.

After she'd made her decision the desolation that gripped her had once again almost cost her her life- or whatever punishment the Prince intended to put her through. But after she learned to accept it, the grief seemed to hit her less hard each time she went to see the Prince. The evenings she spent with him were the only highlights of her entire week. Sometimes he called for her more than once and she would go dutifully as always, dressed in one of the many new dresses he'd stocked the trunk with, especially for her she presumed (as did all the other girls), since the routine had begun.

As a result of breaking all ties with her roommates the Prince became the only being with whom she spoke to. And as she grew more familiar with him and thus less afraid she found herself enjoying his company as much as he was supposed to hers. She began telling him more about herself, her old life and her emotions. A subject he was apparently a complete stranger to;

"-so just before I left they wanted me to entertain Lord F—'s son. He was to inherit a large fortune upon his father's death- which wasn't too far away judging by his size," she laughed delicately, shielding her mouth behind a hand.

The Prince's brow was furrowed in a frown. "And so they wanted you to entertain him…to make him happy?"

Lynn tried but could not hold back the laugh that bubbled in her throat, softening the tired lines of her face and allowing her radiant beauty to shine through. "Not exactly, your highness; I suspect my father wanted a little more than just his happiness. "

The Prince continued to look puzzled.

"He probably wanted me to marry him," she explained.

"Marry?" asked the Prince, now even more confused.

"You know," said Lynn whose turn it was to be surprised. "There would be a ceremony and I would be bonded to him for life, sharing his fortune- which was the most important aspect in my parents' eyes- 'till death do us part'."

If the Prince was surprised (which she could tell he was) he hid it well, only reaching up to stroke the bottom half of his face in thought. She glanced at him every now and then through her lashes, waiting to see how he'd react.

Eventually he just shook his head, betraying his bewilderment. "The more I hear of your strange ways the less I understand them." All too soon two guards stepped forth and she knew it was time for her to leave. A tiny sigh escaped her throat.

The Prince quirked an elegant eyebrow and she blushed, realising she'd been heard. She curtsied quickly and left, still blushing furiously.

* * *

She could not remember how many times she had visited the Prince already- the girls seemed to take it as a given that she would be the one that was called each week when the Prince returned from wherever he left to- but this time her audience did not seem to be as pleased as she had hoped.

What had she done wrong? She wasn't neglecting the him in any way; she'd been nothing but gregarious all evening. Which was more than she could say for her silent companion. The Prince had not said a word all night, letting her ramble in any fashion she liked. She quickly ran out of things to say and sat quite miserably in her seat, fearing she'd unknowingly offended him in some way.

"I suppose I should take my leave of you now, sire," she sighed finally, not altogether managing to keep the sadness out of her voice.

He looked at her through his mask, his expression unreadable. "I do not recall giving you permission to leave."

"But-" she began, confused. He stared her down, eventually forcing her into silence.

"I apologize," he said. She stared up at him in shock. "You have served me well." he continued solemnly.

She froze. Was this his way of saying she was no longer needed? The Prince looked away and she froze in panic, following his gaze. The child-guard in green that she was beginning to recognize at the head guard approached her. Her gaze flickered between the Prince and the approaching guard but his face still remained impassive. Fear closed up her throat and her blankness stole over her mind. What was going on?

The boy kept his green eyes fixed on her, so similar yet unlike her own in their coldness. He reached one hand behind his back. She shut her eyes, fearing the worst.

But the blow did not fall. She opened her eyes and saw not a weapon being held out but instead a small parcel of furs. She glanced at the Prince but his expression still remained stony. She cautiously reached out and took the small gift being proffered to her. Her fingers itched to lift away the wrappings but she closed her fist around it and instead bowing her head to the Prince.

"Thank you, sire," she said with feeling. "I…do not deserve such an honour."

"I reward those in whom I see value." She reeled in shock as she took in the meaning of his words.

"Put it away," he instructed. "You may amuse yourself with it later." She obediently tucked it away in a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress and began answering his numerous questions with renewed enthusiasm, as though the Prince's coldness had never been.

She had left the Prince's quarters that evening joyful but weary. She had thanked the Prince again before she left but for some reason it only seemed to make him withdraw into the coldness she'd experienced before. He did not tease her this time, only acknowledging her leaving with a solemn nod.

She did not puzzle over his erratic changes in behaviour for too long for she still did not know what her present was and the curiosity was killing her. Her feet trod the well-worn path, automatically making the turns that led to their room. As soon as the other girls were asleep she'd find out what it was, she decided. But after having changed and eaten she was so exhausted that she hardly had the strength to climb into bed.

This constant tiredness was becoming a regular occurrence she noted sleepily. Most often just after she'd visited the Prince. Tomorrow, when she was alone during their cleaning rounds, then she'd find out what it was. She turned over onto her side with a smile, the heaviness of sleep already beginning to steal over her.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is where the real fun begins ;p**


	10. Surprises

**A/N:** I won't delay you any longer, so read on ;)

* * *

"Leave your things." Every head in the room turned. His voice was high and clear, almost like a girl's.

"Bring only one set of extra clothes," he continued.

Wide-eyed with confusion and now fully awake, the girls quickly carried out the guard's orders. They quickly assembled into their lines and followed him out of the room where they joined the other guards waiting for them. There were more than the usual Lynn noticed. There were the twin silver guards, the head guard in green and the other one in navy blue. But there were also a few new ones; one in russet red, another in dark brown and a final extra boy decked in cloths the colour of sand.

Lynn clutched her bundle to her chest and followed the other girls into the tunnel. What was going on? Was it so dangerous that extra security was being enforced? The walked to the end of the tunnel, their collective footsteps only slightly louder than usual. At the fork in their path where they usually turned left to enter the path that led to the rest of the underground chambers they instead turned right; the passageway to the Prince's chambers.

Though she could not see the others' faces, she could feel their confusion mirroring her own. They were led down the right corridor and up a flight of stairs that led directly off of it. Up and up they climbed, none of them making a sound. Small shrouded windows began to appear on the walls as they ascended through the Prince's underground palace.

So the Prince was summoning them, she thought. But as they passed the stairway that led up to his rooms without so much as a second glance, Lynn was no longer sure. She could feel the surprise and worry radiating off the other girls as they continued on their route through this unfamiliar part of the castle.

Five more minutes of hushed walking and the girls finally came to a stop. She could not see from her place at the end of the line but Lynn could hear the jangle of keys and a series of familiar clicking sounds. She tried peering out of the window closest to her but all she could see was dense, dark green shrubbery.

The line surged forwards once more and stifled gasps floated back to where she stood. Her breathing quickened and she could not contain the smile that broke out on her features. She gasped while her eyes squinted of their own accord. A sharp prod from behind reminded her to keep her feet moving.

She looked around, blinking several times to accustom herself to the relative brightness of her new surroundings. They had entered into a small clearing. Trees- conifer, firs and all manner of evergreen trees- at least two hundred feet tall enclosed the glade, beyond them an opaque darkness. Weak sunlight filtered through the nearly impenetrable canopy of the surrounding trees, casting dappling shadows onto the uneven ground. More than once she stumbled on one of the many thick and gnarled roots that protruded form the earth, which seemed to stretch on and beyond the clearing.

She looked back and saw the colossal tree from which they had emerged and that dominated the centre of the circular field. It rose into the air like a crooked old man; bent double, almost triple, the uppermost branches almost sweeping the ground. So that was the Prince's castle.

The bark was a deep black colour, darker than ebony, almost charred. They neared the edge of the clearing, drawing closer to the darkness of the unbroken forest. It was silly but as she gave the old tree one last glance it looked almost as though the other trees were wary of it; giving it a wide berth yet their upper branches drew inexplicably towards it, shrouding it in shade. It reminded her strangely of the Prince, twisted branches and all.

She turned and faced forward just as they entered the forest's darkness. The drop in temperature was almost instantaneous, raising goosebumps on her skin. She chafed her arms and wondered where they were being led. The comparative gloom of the forest made the light in the shadowy clearing positively blinding. Were it not for the torches the guards still held aloft she would have fallen flat on her face with every few steps; the floor was even more uneven here than before.

It felt cold and slimy, especially through her thin slippers. The leaf litter was so deep in places she often found herself submerged to the knee in dead leaves and other natural debris. The path they followed was a narrow one, barely escaping the way of the trees; often a fallen branch forced them to hitch their skirts up and clamber over. They walked on though the forest, treading its sunless floor, not a word passing their lips.

Beyond the path, which was only wide enough for them to walk in single file formation, she could not see anything but bark and the moss and lichen that covered it. Yet it all felt eerily familiar. Waves of fear swept through her as she walked, causing her to stumble even more than she already was. She was sure she'd been here before but how was that possible? The forest was silent aside from their own loud footsteps; there were no bird cries, no buzzing of insects: no sign of life at all. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her but still managed to fall. As she picked her self up, the feel of rough branches and thorns scraping against her cheek brought a flash of recognition so strong she fell down again. Her nightmares. She'd been here in her nightmares, almost every other night since she'd arrived. How could she have forgotten? She heaved herself off the muddy earth and kept her eyes downcast, too terrified to look around.

The smell came gradually at first, carried on the whisper of a breeze, stealing into their olfactory senses. Lynn wrinkled her nose vaguely making note of it. But as they progressed the odour became overpowering and she had to clasp her hands to her mouth and nose to keep from being sick.

It was a chance glance but she saw it's source as she turned her head. To her immediate right, so well hidden that there was no way anyone would stumble across it unless they knew it was there, was a path not dissimilar to the one she was being lead up now. She only got a fleeting glance but at the end of the short path she could see a procession so far away they looked like ants emerging from a cavernous hole in the ground. The stench was unbearable.

---

They walked on for ten more minutes or so, most of it uphill, before they finally reached their destination. The excitement in the air was now tangible. The guards parted the last few trees and motioned for the girls to pass.

They squinted in the sudden abundance of light, raising their arms to their faces to shield them from it. It was indeed a sight to behold:

They had entered another clearing, completely unlike the nightmarish jungle they had just emerged from. The trees above them had parted just enough that a few real rays of sunshine cascaded down into the centre of the clearing like a shimmering waterfall of light. The grass was blindingly colourful in comparison to the gloom they had just emerged from while small daisies dotted the little field swaying gently. But beyond them was where the true beauty lay.

The sound of trickling water drew their eyes upwards. A small waterfall, a baby really, surrounded by river rocks and boulders weathered smooth over the years. Water cascaded down the granite rock face and gathered at its base creating a small clear pool just deep enough to bathe in. It flowed on to form more of a river than a stream that flowed on and beyond the clearing. Lynn felt her spirits soar.

The girls walked towards it hesitantly glancing at the guards from the corners of their eyes. But when their young jailers retreated to the edges of the clearing on the borderline of light and shadow surrounding them, they took it as their cue to proceed.

***

Lynn sunbathed on the ground in her wet clothes, her bare toes nestling in the cool grass. There was nothing comparable to the freshness of the outdoors; it was only now that she realised how much she had missed it. She let the little sunlight there was caress her face and warm her cheeks. Sonia was lying down nearby, an arm flung over her face as she snoozed; Penelope and Maria were making daisy chains.

Ada and the twins were still bathing in the pool, screaming and shrieking as another splashed water at them.

Off the pool there were two rivers running side by side. Separated only by a few large boulders the serene stream so perfect for bathing had a sister of raging river rapids; a mass of churning white water. They were careful to keep their distance.

"Hey," grumbled Sonia opening one eye. "I'm trying to get some sleep here."

"Oh, lighten up Sonia!" teased Penelope already walking towards the waterfall for a second round of swimming.

"Just remember not to go past the large boulder or the river," she warned.

Soon Lynn and Maria joined them as well, until only Sonia was left sitting on the grass. The girls looked at each other with the same glint of mischief in their eyes. They cupped their hands gathering water and tiptoed to where the snoozing girl lay.

"Aaaaiee!" she shrieked. The girls ran for their lives into the safety of the pool.

Within minutes a full-blown water fight was in swing and the girls ran around the clearing laughing and screaming. Lynn clambered atop one of the larger rocks bordering the stream in an attempt to get away from the onslaught of water, exhilaration making her reckless.

Maria and Lille jumped in the pool attempting to attack her from behind. Lynn squealed and edged as far away as she could while maintaining her balance on the slippery river rock.

Ada quickly caught on as well. "I'm gonna get you~" she sang, cupping her hands to hold the water as she advanced.

Lynn shrieked and scooted further on the rock. The other girls too advanced, each issuing threats of an imminent soaking.

There was a larger rock just nearby. Now if she just jumped hard enough, and perhaps with a little running start to get her going, she could definitely make it.

"You'll never catch me!" she retorted, showing off her biceps before unsteadily getting to her feet.

She took a step back and to a running head start. She surged forwards and leapt.

Lynn sailed through the air for a moment and landed hard on the rock she'd been aiming for, overshooting just a little. She landed on the shiny, mossy side of the rock, the side nearer to the rapids that she'd thought, and slipped. She screamed.

"Lynn!" yelled the girls. They rushed forwards to help, splashing through the water to get nearer. Two of the guards quickly moved forwards.

Her fingers scrabbled over the slimy surface, desperate to find a place to grip. She looked down and saw white frothy water churning below; currents strong enough to drag away even the strongest swimmer.

"Help!" she screamed, sliding further down the rock.

The stream was too deep in the middle to wade through and even though they could swim to Lynn there was no way any of them would be able to pull her up without some means of anchoring. The other side of the river, though more vicious, was narrower.

They quickly crossed the pool to get to the other side formed a human chain with Ada at the front and one of the guards holding Maria at the end of the chain firmly in place on the riverbank. The young German waded slowly through the churning water towards her, pushing against the current. She got as far as the nearest boulder but the amount of pressure the water forced on her prevented her from coming any closer.

"You'll have to jump!" she called, straining to be heard over the roar of the water. "Jump and I'll catch you when you float by."

Lynn gave her a panicky look and dug her fingers deeper into the rock. It would be very close; if Ada didn't catch her she'd be swept away by the current. But there was no other choice. She looked at the girl's determined face.

"I'll catch you," she promised.

Lynn closed her eyes and released her hold on the rock praying she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life. She fell feet first allowing the icy water to rise up above her head, muffling her hearing. She was tossed end over end like a leaf in the wind, water filling her mouth and nose making it impossible to breathe.

Lynn gasped as her head finally broke the surface of the water. She felt Ada's firm grip on her arm and suddenly a barrage of water crashed against her as the older girl fought against the current. She struggled to stand up but the torrent of water swept her feet from under her and she was dragged down once more.

She flailed in the water, fighting to keep her head up while Ada used all her strength just to maintain her hold. The other guards looked on warily, not being able to enter the stream for fear of being swept away themselves. She thought desperately of the Prince and why they were not calling for him to help.

Lynn struggled to grab Ada's hand as the girl's grip slid from her forearm to her wrist, the water viciously trying to pry them apart. Then suddenly Ada let go altogether.

Lynn slid forwards a few feet before she was grabbed once again. But this time Ada couldn't hold on.

"Lynn!" she screamed.

She felt her fingers fumbling to hang on, desperately trying with just the tips of her fingernails. But Lynn was too weak and the current was too strong, until at last she was swept away.

---

Ada and the others watched horrified as Lynn was carried away down the stream, her gurgled cries for help barely audible over the roar of the rapids.

"Lynn!" she screamed again, wading forwards and breaking Sonia's grip on her waist.

"No!" shouted Sonia, yanking her back.

"You want me to let her drown!?" raged the girl.

"We'll have a better chance if we follow along side the river. Come on."

The girls quickly retreated towards the bank and ran along the riverbank as fast as they could, looking for any sign of Lynn. The guards ran with them and though their faces did not show it, their movements betrayed their worry.

Ada led the group, her long legs and fear giving her speed. _Please let her be okay, please let her be okay, please let her be okay-_

She jerked to a stop.

"No," she breathed.

Breathtaking though it was, at that moment no sight could have been more terrible. The girls crowded around the rocky outcrop that was the waterfall's head, much larger than their own waterfall, and stared openmouthed in disbelief at the dizzying drop below.

Ada sank to her knees, covering her face as the tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

The roar of the falls drowned out their cries.

---

* * *

**A/N**: Happy New Year's Eve!

I haven't really proofread this chapter but it was surprisingly fun to write. Getting the scenery right was tricky though. What did you guys think? Nice reviews would make my new year~ *hint hint*

A massive round of applause to _LePaige _and _Sucker4Stories _who have followed and reviewed this story from the beginning. Thanks so much guys :')

Thanks also to _Felix_, _AliceAshleyCullen_, _DestinyCharmer, Ccmc, Kate0722,_ _Kylie, Contaminated, Potterdancer616, talkstoangels77, pinkalarmclock _and anyone else I might've missed who reviewed and/or added this to their alerts.

Thanks again everyone, have a Happy New Year and see you in 2010! =D


	11. New Beginnings

The girls dragged their feet as they walked, their faces stained with tears, their eyes red and swollen. They trudged through the dark forest, its gloom and darkness pressing on their already low spirits and drowning them in their grief. The guards were positioned between each girl as before, hurrying them on even faster to the Prince's underground castle.

They filed into the room and the familiar sound of a lock clanging shut followed soon after. They looked up and each saw their own image as though reflected in a five-way mirror. Five small, tired and bedraggled young girls with the same leaves in their hair and the same streaks of mud covering their arms and faces. They do not look exactly the alike though; some eyes are bigger, others smaller, bluer, browner… but all of them look swollen and all of them look sad. And as they look at each of these girls, their own mirror images, all so different yet all still the same, they are reminded that something is missing: a pair of green eyes that are not swollen and red, a face that isn't smattered with scratches and mud; a face that is no longer there. And as that same face with those very green eyes fill their memories, laughing and smiling at them all they can stand it no more. And they watch as their mirror images change, as their faces crumple and they can feel their own faces distort with the pain of remembering. And one by one the girls' eyes fill with moisture that spilled over their rims, like a waterfall of tears.

He sat by the fire, the flickering dance of light and shadow across his face making its sharp-features look gaunt. He raised his hands to his face, interlaced at the tips and frowned as he thought. A murmur from the corner of the room brought him out of his broodings. His eyes flicked towards the source of the sound and with and imperceptible sigh he heaved himself away from the warmth of the fire and walked towards it.

"How is she?"

"Better," grunted the thickset man, clearing away various bandages and medicines to make space for him. "Recovering much faster than you or I would anyway," he said with a trace of resentment.

The two men looked at their patient. At first glance it was impossible to tell whether the person lying there was male or female; gauzy white bandages covered every inch of her body like a second skin; and even some young men possessed long hair these days. But a closer look at her features and there was no way you could mistake her for a man.

Satisfied, he turned to leave. "Keep an eye on her till she wakes up, Rob."

It took two solid days before the girls were fit to be put to work again. The first few days after their disastrous outing the most they could do was make tea for themselves when the hunger got too much to bear. Every morning they would rise with eyes red from crying; the only thing getting them out of bed in the morning was the inexorable return of the Prince.

As this fact began to settle in, their grief was pushed aside to make room for the anxiety for the events to come. The night before the Prince was expected to return the girls sat in a circle at the foot of their beds to discuss their course of action.

"What are we going to do?" asked Penelope staring desolately into her mug of tea. "Who are we going to send instead when he asks for…" the words caught in her throat and she took a deep shuddering breath to calm herself down. Lille rubbed her arm consolingly and looked to Sonia with an unspoken plea to come up with an answer.

"Perhaps he will not," said Sonia carefully, trying to keep her own emotions under control. "Perhaps the guards will tell him. They saw what happened…"

"But what will we do if they do not!" asked Colette desperately. "The Prince will be furious!"

This was the thought they had all been too afraid to voice. For although there was no doubt they grieved their friend's loss they were also very much aware that Lynn had been the Prince's favourite. Who would bear the burden of bringing him the bad news? How would he react? It was a situation too terrifying to even contemplate. For if the guards didn't tell the Prince, surely they were hoping the blame would fall to them: the servant girls. It would be the logical solution.

"I'll go." The girls turned in shock; they had not heard that voice for almost as long as they had not heard Lynn's.

Ada raised her head a fraction of an inch. "I'll go see the Prince."

Her first thoughts coherent thoughts were: the afterlife is surprisingly hard.

"Hah, I'd be so lucky if that's all it were," said a gravelly voice.

Her eyes flew open in surprise. And only grew wider when she found it didn't make any difference. "I've gone blind," she reported.

A gruff chortle came just above her head. "A body would think you'd never seen the dark before."

That doesn't make any sense, she thought.

She heard the sound of stone striking stone and squinted as the sudden burst of flame burned into her retina causing lights to dance behind her closed lids. When she reopened them a burly, bald man shifted into her field of view. He was gathering the gauzy white strips scattered on a small bedside table and rolling them up into a bundle.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Name's Rob," he replied, after he'd finished collecting the bandages.

"Rob," she repeated, still disorientated. "And where am I exactly, Rob?"

"Right now, on a bed. In gen'ral, I'd say you were in a room. " He stood up and removed the piece of cloth on her forehead. "Well, looks like yer fever's gone down."

He moved away to her left and then returned with a small bottle of something and a crude wooden spoon. He helped her to sit up (which was more difficult and painful than she'd imagined), then poured out a measure of the substance which was a deep green colour and surprisingly clear.

"Open up," he ordered.

Still not having her complete wits about her, Lynn obeyed and obediently opened her mouth. She gagged almost instantly. But before she could spit out the foul-tasting liquid Rob had clamped her lips shut with two of his fingers, forcing her to swallow it down.

The minute he relinquished his hold Lynn spluttered her protests. "How dare you!" she coughed, causing something in her chest to make horrible grinding noises. She took a deep breath that seemed to reverberate inside of her. "What on earth did you do that for?" she asked, rubbing her chest gingerly and glaring at her burly nursemaid.

Instead, Rob looked over her head at something, gave a nod, a 'hmph' and stepped back.

"Glad to see you've finally woken up," said the newcomer, coming over to stand next to Rob. He conferred quietly with the older man giving Lynn the opportunity to scrutinize him properly.

He was quite young- not more than three-and-twenty years of age- and dressed simply in a white cotton tunic rolled up to the elbows and black trousers. He had a narrow face that tapered down into a pointed chin. A ring of thick, curly lashes framed his dark brown eyes while brown, almost black hair curled softly around his high cheekbones and lay across his forehead. He had a very singular nose she noted. He'd probably broken it; it looked as though halfway through its growth it had suddenly decided to change direction and began growing straight downwards instead of completing its gradual descent. He turned back to her and she quickly lowered her gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

"Better," she said, looking up at him. "Thank you."

The man laughed. "It's Rob you should really be thanking," he said, clapping said man on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Rob," she said with feeling.

Rob merely grunted.

The young man laughed again, looking at the burlesque man but leaning towards her confidingly. "Don't worry, he's like that with everyone." Her cheeks heated up, unused to the sudden proximity but laughed hesitantly along with him.

Rob snorted. "Typical, y'start talking to the girl five minutes after she wakes up an' you don't even introduce yerself prop'ly. What she supposed to think, eh?"

"He's right of course," said the man turning towards her again. "And I do apologize." He stood up and bowed low. "James Marcus Hook," he announced with a flourish. "At your service." He looked up and smiled through his lashes at her. She blushed. "But you can call me Marcus."

For some reason this remark made Robert laugh.

Ignoring him, Marcus turned his attention back to Lynn and stood upright. "I'm sorry but I never caught your name-?"

"I-Its Lynn; Gwendolyn Darling," she stammered.

"Lynn- may I call you that?" She nodded timidly. "I must ask you one question before this conversation proceeds any further." His brown eyes were intent: "Can you stand?"

Needless to say she was thrown off guard but she tried wriggling her toes to check. Her legs felt a bit stiff and the throbbing sensation hadn't completely faded but she could probably manage.

"I think so," she said.

"Excellent," said Marcus, clapping his hands together as he stood up. "Then we shall continue this discussion with the rest of the crew."

_The crew?_ she thought worriedly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and with some help from Robert, carefully stood up. She gasped as her ankle made a sickening crunching noise and she swayed heavily against him while the world spun and lights popped in front of her eyes.

"Easy there, Princess," he murmured, easily lifting her up and back onto the bed. His fingers, although large were deft and soon her ankle was neatly bound with a splint to restrict movement.

"Thank you, Rob," she repeated. "You really are a most excellent doctor. Isn't he?" She asked, looking up at Marcus. He had stepped back to let Robert do his work but now he would not meet her gaze.

"Let us proceed, shall we?" he asked instead, coming up beside her to support her left while Robert took hold of her right arm. His mouth was smiling but she could see the grimace etched underneath. As they led her forwards, she swallowed the fear that came with the sudden realisation that she was at their complete mercy. There was the most peculiar sensation of déjà vu.

Her sick room was a part of a series of interconnected cave-like rooms, joined by narrow, torch-lit tunnels. It was not unlike the Prince's lair she thought, save for the fact that it was much smaller and the walls here had been worn smooth and were made of stone instead of earth. The ceilings here were also much higher, allowing for considerably more headroom and there was a constant, indistinguishable roar that echoed throughout almost as a kind of background noise.

As they made their slow way forward, Lynn wincing in pain every time she accidentally landed on her sore ankle, Marcus dropped the smile altogether until his displeasure was plain to see. Acting on reflex she shrank away from him; if he noticed he did not show it.

"It's just through this door," informed Marcus as they neared their final arched doorway.

_Thank heavens, _thought Lynn privately. It hadn't been a long trip but her leg was throbbing badly now- even with Rob taking most of her weight.

As she entered the room a sudden gust of wind blew her hair around her face, filling her mouth and obscuring her sight. When she finally managed to pull it out of the way, her eyes widened as far as her sockets would allow. This final room was huge; ceilings so high and walls so far apart that she couldn't even see them beyond the. Beyond the entrance to the cave was a backdrop of biblical proportions; arcs of lightening chased each other across the sky, resulting in deafening bursts of sound whenever they colided.

A large blazing fire was situated in the centre of the cave, warding off the cold winds that came with the thunderstorm raging outside. What she assumed was the 'crew' lounged around it, talking and laughing loudly amongst themselves.

As the trio neared the fire, their faces illuminated by the firelight, a gradual hush fell over the assembled group. Countless pairs of eyes followed their progress to the head of the circle. She was set down carefully, with Marcus on her right and Rob on her left. The eyes turned now to Marcus. Ignoring their expectant looks, he turned to Lynn instead.

"Now, why don't you tell us your story?"

She looked up into his face. Why was he doing this? She glanced at the motley crew and found their undivided attention focused on her. She looked down and fidgeted with the material of her dress. How horrible Marcus was; he was behaving nothing like the gentlemanly young man who had introduced himself to her earlier. The scrutiny was unbearable and as the silence dragged on she could feel the tears gathering in her eyes.

"C'mon, Princess," said one of the men loudly and encouragingly. "Why don't ya jus' start with yer name?"

Calmed by his friendly tone, she hastily wiped her eyes and gave a shy smile.

"I'm L-lynn, Gwendolyn Darling," she said, raising her head. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Lille and Colette huddled by the fire, the former resting her head on her sister's lap. Soft melodious singing eased the tension in the room. The song told the tale of a soldier girl; a girl brave and courageous who was fighting for her love. And though it was sung in its native Russian, it was a tune familiar to all of them now.

"_-и она сказала: я не буду изгиб вашей воле…"*_

Sonia moved her fingers in and out of Maria's thick black hair as she sang, creating an intricate design of weaves and braids almost without thinking. The singing helped them to relax and to avoid those awkward situations when they were at a loss for anything to say besides regrets and laments.

Ada moved restlessly through the room, smoothing out bedspreads that were already straight and sweeping floors that had already been swept. Finally emitting a sigh of defeat she found herself being drawn, as she so often was these days, towards Lynn's bed and the small box of her possessions they had collected at the foot of it.

She sat cross-legged and opened it with another sigh, pulling out it's contents one by one; a hairclip Lynn used to wear, a mug she particularly favoured, the gowns she wore and modeled that none of them dreamed they could. And at the very bottom of the box, the dress she had last worn, grass stains still as fresh and green as the day she'd made them. Ada lifted it up and noticed, not for the first time, how much smaller the girl had been compared to her. How slight she'd been in comparison.

_CLUNK._

She looked up, startled to see a small parcel of furs roll out onto the floor. It must have been in one of the pockets, she thought as she picked it up and turned it over. She ran her fingers over the small, smooth strips of silver fur that enclosed the mysterious object. A gift? Was it a gift for one of them? But where did she get the fur wrappings from, and more importantly where had Lynn managed to procure such a gift?

Fueled by her curiosity Ada lifted away the furs. However, as the nature of the object became clear, her mouth settled into a thin, hard line and her face clouded over with anger and envy. This was clearly not a gift that Lynn intended to give, but a gift that she had received. She roughly bundled the gift back into its packaging and slipped it into her pocket. If it was truly Lynn's then she would return it to its rightful owner, she thought spitefully.

But even as the thought passed her mind, a wave of guilt washed over her and almost immediately she regretted her malicious feelings. She pulled the small parcel into her hands and stared at it a moment before returning it gently to where it belonged. Finding nothing more of interest, Ada got up to join the rest of the girls in their restless, anxious wait.

It had been on the fourth day after the incident that the Prince finally returned calling for one of the girls immediately. As they had known deep down all along, it was not in their hands to decide who would visit the Prince and as it so happened, Penelope was chosen first. So here they were, worried sick about what was to become of their friend, whether she had been punished and what exactly the Prince would be like now that his favourite had gone from the world.

After what seemed like an eternity, the heavy, metal lock _clicked_ and the door swung open. Penelope entered, looking a little pale and harried, but otherwise unharmed. The girls clustered around her apprehensive but eager to know the details of her meeting.

"It was fine," said Penelope as she pulled the pins out of her hair. "The Prince treated me like he always does; didn't speak very much, let me go on as I pleased…" In unison the girls sighed in relief.

"So he wasn't angry!" said Lille to her sister, the first smile on her face in days, while Penelope went behind a screen and undid the clasps on her dress. The gorls looked at each other, slightly hopeful that things would not be as bad for them- in regards to the Prince- as they had feared. But-

"Did he mention…" began Maria. She gulped.

"Did he say anything about Lynn?" supplied Colette when Maria failed.

"Hmm?" asked Penelope pulling a linen dress over her head. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"What did he say about Lynn?" repeated Sonia a little forcefully.

Penelope emerged from behind the screen, completely earnest and with confusion flitting across her face.

"Lynn?" she said. "I'm sorry, I have no idea who you're talking about."

*****In Russian- according to the Google translator at least- it says _"-and she said, I will not bend to your will..."_

**A/N: **Patience is a virtue. Translation: don't kill me while I take ages to write out the next chapter.


	12. The crew

_"Lynn?" she said. "I'm sorry, I have no idea who you're talking about."_

The girls stared at her incredulously.

"Don't be silly Penelope," said Sonia. "Of course you know who Lynn is."

Penelope wrinkled her forehead in a gesture of earnest confusion. "Lynn?" she asked looking up at their shocked countenances. "I'm sorry, I really don't remember. Is she a friend of ours?"

The girls gaped; this was clearly not a jest.

"Lynn!" said Ada loudly, on the verge of shaking the redhead, "You know, our friend who drowned last week?"

The other girls winced at the incident being stated so callously and Maria began to cry. But Penelope's eyes only widened in shock, a hand flying to her mouth in horror.

Now the girls stared at her instead. She truly did not remember the incident. It was as though the memory had been wiped clear of her mind. One by one the realisation sank in that something had happened to the girl as she continued to express her laments at the loss of one of 'their' friends.

Treating her almost like one does the mentally unstable, Sonia and the other girls led her to the fireplace and sat her down.

Sonia began with a simple question. "Penelope, can you tell me who that is?" she asked, pointing at Colette.

"Of course I can," she replied, a little surprised. "And next to her is Lille, and there's Maria and Ada." She turned back to her questioner. "Of course I know who you all are. Why wouldn't I?"

"Then how is it she does not remember Lynn?" asked Lille, her question directed at Sonia.

"Perhaps she is in shock?" suggested her twin.

"I think it more likely has something to do with the Prince," said Ada darkly. "She was fine before she left and now it's like Lynn never existed."

The girls regarded Penelope with horrified fascination as they saw the truth of Ada's words.

"When you went to see the Prince, what did he do?" asked Ada, intent.

"Nothing," repeated Penelope, now completely bewildered. "He didn't do anything to me. I went in, he asked me to sing like always and left." She turned from one girl to another, all of them pensive. "What's going on? What's the matter?"

Ada fixed her with a hard, level gaze, forestalling her questions. "Whether you believe us or not, you had a friend, Gwendolyn Darling. And whether you remember it or not, she died a few days ago."

* * *

_-"I'm L-lynn, Gwendolyn Darling," she said, raising her head. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."-_

"Real lady this one, eh boss?" said one of the younger ruffians, nudging another while flicking his eyes over towards Lynn.

"Keep quiet, lad," growled his companion. "The Cap'n seems real unsettl'd bout something."

The boy hushed up with a slight pout set on his face to mask his embarrassment. He didn't really get what all the fuss was about. So what if she was half-drowned? Rob had already saved her hadn't he, so why was Captain Hook calling such a huge meeting?

Lynn fidgeted with her dress, unsure of how to carry on. She looked to Marcus in a silent plea for help but he was now obstinately staring at the fire, disregarding her and her discomfort completely.

Feeling helpless and once again on the verge of tears, she lowered her head to hide her face and save her the indignity of a circle of fully-grown men seeing her cry.

"Oi, you louts!" yelled Rob suddenly to the ring of spectators. "Don't just sit there gapin' a' her like a bunch o' fish. The young lady here jus' told you her name."

The men conferred between themselves in a flurry of thick accents and indistinguishable muttering. Finally a representative, a boy by the looks of it, emerged asking, "So what do you want us to do, boss?"

Rob shook his head and muttered what Lynn was relatively sure were expletives under his breath. "You'd think they'd bin raised by monkeys," he grumbled.

"Jus' intr'duce yerselves lads."

Lynn whipped her head around in complete surprise. It _was _Marcus who'd spoken and who by now had a smile on his face. But he'd sounded a lot more like Rob just then-

"Well why didn't you just say so," muttered the boy, who upon closer inspection looked about her age.

"Beggin' yer pardon miss," he said exaggeratedly slow, standing up and sketching a slightly mocking bow in her direction, "I'm Tom."

She bowed her head in return as was customary but it only made the lad smirk. Surprised, she turned to the next man in the circle for his name.

"Radmer."

"Cecco," rumbled a man covered from head to foot in tattoos.

"Barton."

"Aesop," said a man with head full of grey hair. He touched the brim of his hat respectfully and gave her a kind smile. Her eyes betrayed her shock at the familiar name, making the old man chuckle.

After the ring of twenty or so introductions were complete silence once again descended on the group and Lynn felt more hostility directed towards her more now than ever before.

"Now," said Marcus in a whisper, reverting to his formal accents. "Why don't you tell us how you came to be here?"

She looked at him, trying to see what his real intentions were. But she was too tired and her leg was already sapping away at what little strength she had left. So instead of retaliating or probing further she concentrated on a spot beside the fire and with resignation, spoke.

"One cold, moonlit night, when my parents were away and my brothers and I were in bed I heard a noise in my room…"

And so her tale was told, framed by her full red lips and carried on the wind to the ears of the rough-edged pirates by her soft melodic voice. Her voice was clear and high, her speech soothing and gentle. She did not hurry her words, nor did she stumble, even with sleep making her tongue and eyelids heavy. They listened, entranced by the words flowing out the young, frail creature's mouth. Her descriptions were so vivid it was as though they were there themselves; the cushion-room, the Prince's chambers, the waterfall…

She never once raised her head, never once looked any of them in the eye. She hid her emotion well, her etiquette lessons resurfacing once again. She was tired of constantly being in fear, of constantly being someone's prisoner; she refused to play the helpless damsel any longer. No matter what happened.

"-and so I fell. The current was too strong for Ada. From there I think Robert would be able to give you a more accurate version." She finished.

She raised her head, her narrative told. The men stared at her openly and she returned their gaze, steady and calm.

"Well, well, well," said Marcus quietly, stroking his chin in speculation.

Rob looked over at his friend before turning to the rest of the crew. "Time for bed, lads," he said, in a low authoritative voice. "Story time's over,"

Without a word of protest the others tore their gaze away from Lynn's mute figure and retreated through the main tunnel to their respective bunks.

As soon as they'd left there was a muffled thump as Lynn's slight figure slumped against Rob's meaty shoulder, exhaustion overcoming her.

Rob chuckled, "A real lady, sure enough." He carried her limp figure out of the room, leaving his friend behind to stare thoughtfully into the dying embers of the fire.

* * *

Lynn tossed and turned on the hard mattress. Restless and unable to fall back to sleep, she got up and surveyed the small room she'd been put in. A woven straw mat to cover the floor, a rickety old chair in the corner and a small table with a bowl of water served as a dresser. A small candle standing in a pool of solidified wax on the table served as the room's only source of light.

She eased herself up carefully, testing her leg and to her astonishment found that it didn't throb anymore. In fact, it hardly hurt at all. Sitting back on the bad she lifted her leg and undid the bandages. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise; all that was left of the grotesque swelling the day before were a small bump and a few choice bruises. Running her fingers lightly over the bump and not feeling any pain she shrugged, perhaps she was just a fast healer.

She walked over to the makeshift dresser and stared at her reflection in the water's surface. She'd never thought of herself as a particularly vain person but her bedraggled hair, grey-tinged skin and the dark bruise just under her cheek disturbed her more than she liked to admit.

She winced as she prodded the dark contusion on her face. _How long is that going to take to heal? _She'd never gotten a bruise before. Squaring her shoulders she scooped up the icy cold water and splashed it across her face, washing away the last dregs of sleep and bringing some colour back into her cheeks.

She looked around. No brush. _Hmm, my fingers will have to do, I guess. _She dragged her fingers through her hair trying to disentangle the bird's nest it had become. When it finally lay somewhat flat she pulled a piece of straw she saw protruding from her mattress and tied it up into a neat ponytail.

She looked down at her dress and her cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment; it hardly covered her knees! How had she not noticed the night before? And all those men! Her blush deepened and she buried her face in her hands, mortified. She could not be seen like this. She looked around frantically for any piece of material that could serve as a makeshift skirt when her eyes alighted on a bundle of clothes neatly folded at the end of her bed.

She examined them critically. Well, they weren't _exactly_ what she was hoping for but it was better than what she had on now. She pulled on the new clothes as quickly as she could, her door being a simple length of opaque cloth draped over the arched doorway.

She pulled at he new clothes, feeling unusually exposed; it was tighter than she was used to in some places.

"You're up then?"

She squeaked in surprise, completely unprepared for an adolescent boy to come charging in just as she'd finished changing.

"Captain said to see if you were hungry," he said by way of explanation, peering at her.

She cleared her throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear to distract his attention. "Yes, some food would be…wonderful. Thank you, Tom," she added.

"Hmph." The boy pushed away the curtain and motioned for her to follow.

* * *

She was strange, he decided. For starters there was the fact that she'd actually remembered his name. But there were loads of other things too; she didn't talk loudly, didn't belch at the end of the meal, always kept her head up and back straight. She was so…stiff. His back hurt just watching her. And it was _weird, _he thought, even though she was wearing his clothes and was about the same size, she didn't look anything like him in them. She looked a lot more… flowy. And skinny, she was definitely skinnier than him- in some places anyway, he thought shoving a huge chunk of bread in his mouth and watching her closely.

Lynn looked up across the noisy table and caught the boy staring at her again. She quickly lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing. Why did he keep staring at her? Impudent little thing, she thought feeling flustered.

And she kept doing that- that not looking at him thing. Or speaking to him for that matter. She wouldn't look at anyone really, 'sides Rob. And then he never really spoke either unless he was barking orders at them.

He didn't understand her at all. But orders were orders and the Captain did say to keep an eye on her, show her around and stuff. So right after breakfast that was exactly what he planned to do. It was tons better than doing chores anyway, he thought to himself, giving her one his trademark, mile-wide grins.

* * *

"Are you sure this is safe?" asked Lynn tremulously, staring down at the dizzying drop below.

Before the meal had even fully finished Tom had sneaked around to her side of the table, amidst all the hustle and bustle of breakfast, telling her to keep quiet and follow him. They'd walked right to the edge of the entrance of the cave and just as Lynn was about to call someone to save him from himself, instead of plummeting like a stone as she'd expected, he just seemed to be getting shorter: there was a staircase.

"'Course it is," replied Tom, skipping on ahead. "What? You're still there? C'mon, if we don't hurry someone's gonna call me back to do some dumb chores or something." He turned around and grabbed her hand, unabashed.

Unseen, she fought to control the blush that was quickly spreading from the roots of her hair down to her neck. He pulled her down the stairs behind him, taking them two at a time.

It was a series of jagged steps cut into the side of a cliff that snaked down to the narrow sandy shoreline. Not stopping for a minute after reaching the bottom of the crumbling staircase and pulled her forwards and around the base of the cliff, hopping from rock to rock at the base where it met the water. Finally, he came to an abrupt halt almost launching into the shallow pool of water beyond him.

"There she is," he said, letting go of her hand to gesture proudly at something.

Sticking her arms out and leaning forwards to regain her balance it took her a while before she looked up.

"Oh," she breathed.

It was another huge cavernous opening located further along the base of the cliff. There was a series of steps that grew almost out of the side of the cave wall. But sitting right in the middle, bobbing gently with the low tide, was a beautiful wooden ship. It was by no means a small ship but in comparison to its docking space, it looked miniscule. The steps led to a natural stone dock where you would be able to board the ship once the tide came in, raising the ship up.

"Wanna get a closer look?" She nodded.

Keeping a hold of her elbow to steady her, Tom carefully led her up the first few algae covered steps to get a look at the ship from above. When suddenly...

"TOM!"

Lynn shrieked in surprise, covering her ears with her hands as Tom's name echoed around the cave, effectively masking her scream. Meanwhile Tom just exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes.

"WHAT?" he bellowed back just as loudly. _What- what- what- what?_ came the resounding echo. There was no answering yell; obviously, the mysterious speaker did not deem this response worthy of a reply.

"Ugh," said Tom with another sigh, continuing up the steps with much less enthusiasm. "C'mon, we gotta go. He knows I'm here now."

Lynn tried to hide her surprise at the brief, loud exchange that had just taken place and wondered whether it was normal for Tom to sound so rebellious.

"Um, pardon my curiosity, but who is 'he' exactly?" ventured Lynn timidly.

Tom turned around. "Oh. That was Barton- he does the grub," he said, seemingly surprised to hear her voice. "He's not half as scary as he sounds though," he added, grinning.

* * *

He was _twice _as scary as he sounded.

"What do ye' think yer doing hopping off after breakfast like that, eh? You know ye' got washin' up t'do!" bellowed the rather stout but muscular man, gobs of spit flying everywhere.

"Aw, lighten up Barty," said Tom easily, transferring a stack of dirty dishes over to the sink.

"Ah will NOT 'lighten up'!" retorted the cook, his tone still as loud but you could see his anger ebbing away.

"C'mon Barty," he pleaded teasingly. "Look, you're scaring the girl." He gestured his soapy hands in Lynn's direction, failing miserably to hide his ever-present grin.

Barton turned around, completely shocked to see Lynn standing there. They'd come up through another staircase that ran from the shipyard all the way into the kitchens above. He gaped.

Lynn bobbed a curtsey on reflex, not knowing what else to do. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Barton snapped his mouth shut and nodded dumbly in return while Tom stifled his very loud guffaws in the background.

"Agh. Get back to work, y'welp," he grumbled to Tom, turning back to his cooking pot, the tips of his ears turning red.

Barton was a very friendly man, as it turned out- not to mention an excellent cook.

"It's absolutely delicious," smiled Lynn as she savoured the taste of the creamy soup

"Well thank you, Princess," chuckled Barton, setting down his spoon. "Let's just hope the lads like it, eh?"

Lynn ducked her head and blushed. "_Please_ stop calling me that."

Barton put his big wooden spoon down and laughed heartily. "No can do luv, haha! Once Rob gives ye a name, yer stuck with it."

"Isn't it almost dinner time?" whined Tom, stirring his spoon around his almost empty soup bowl; Barton had given them a portion before dinner as reward for helping him out (Lynn had felt guiltily proud when Barton said she made a better helper than a certain young lad ever had).

"Greedy little bugger, ain't he?" winked Barton. Lynn tried to mask her surprise at the use of such open swearing with a small smile to show she agreed.

"I'm a growing boy," protested Tom. "'Sides, I'm right ain't I?"

"Aye. That he is," conceded the cook getting to his feet. "C'mon, you kids. Time to feed the crew."

* * *

"A toast,"said Marcus jovially, raising his tankard in Lynn's direction. "To our new guest!"

"Aye!" intoned the rest of the crew. Lynn ducked her head in embarrassment clutching her mug with both hands. Beside her, Tom raised his own tankard in her honour, just as happily. He smiled before taking a gulp.

"Cheers!"

* * *

**A/N:** The next chapter should be up much sooner though- I'm on hols :D. Anyhoo, reader's thoughts for this chapter: **Which character (including the newest ones) is you're favourite so far?** I WANTS FEEDBACK.

In other news, check out my profile page! It's got a link to a quick doodle I made picture of the cave and shipyard.


	13. Tomfoolery

**A/N: as promised, right on time (for once).**_ *To anyone who still has doubts, yes, Princey IS supposed to __be_ _Peter Pan.._

_

* * *

_

_Beside her, Tom raised his own tankard in her honour, just as happily. He smiled before taking a gulp._

_"Cheers!"_

Lynn smiled back and slowly took a sip. She almost gagged; it was awful stuff. Accordions, flutes and a whole host of other makeshift instruments were produced and soon a full sing-along was in swing. The men, though only slightly inebriated, were gay, red-faced and sang along heartily with any song that came up, often requesting for ones themselves. They sang sailor songs, songs of war, songs of home, songs of love... They were completely different to the songs she'd learned to sing- a lot more open, less delicate perhaps. Not that it was any less enjoyable to hear but these new songs with their fast-paced rhythm and simple country tunes were oddly more fun; it made you want to dance and clap your hands rather than just nod and remark how beautiful it was.

Soon the pull of the music was too much for the men and they got up on their feet, skipping and dancing around the fire arm in arm. Tom was there too, hands on his hips, his feet making little skips and jumps as though carried away and made light by the music.

"Nut Brown Maiden!" said Barty calling the next one with a grin.

"Aye!" roared Cecco, winking in return. He struck up a new tune and tapped in time with his foot.

_"Ho ro my nut-brown maiden, Hee ree my nut-brown maiden, Ho ro ro maiden, For she's the maid for me~_

_Her eye so mildly beaming, Her look so frank and free, In waking or in dreaming, Is evermore with me~"*_

And suddenly the men were all calling out for Tom to be a man and winking at her. She looked around, bewildered. They weren't trying to do what they she thought they were, were they? Luckily Tom refused, laughing, saying they knew he didn't know how to 'dance wiv' a girl' and that they were just trying to embarrass him. Thankfully they subsided their taunts and let him be.

"Fine," said Barty. "If you won' dance with her then ah will. A dance, milady?" He asked. She laughed, "It would be my pleasure."

It was, she imagined, like dancing with an older brother, or a kindly uncle. He spun her and twirled her, round and round till she was so dizzy she thought she'd fall. It felt weird to be dancing inn breeches, with no floaty skirt to twirl about in. She laughed and smiled till her cheeks hurt. Finally he came to a stop and bowed to much applause, sitting her down and picking up his violin once more. "A real pleasure, Princess."

She fanned herself with a hand. "Here," said Tom, plopping down heavily beside her. "Drink this." She looked at the cup warily."Don't worry, it's just plain water," he assured her.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

"Quite a rowdy bunch this lot, eh?"he said.

"They look like they're having fun," she conceded.

"Err, about just now," began Tom, scratching the back of his head. "It wasn't that I minded dancing with you it's just I really am terrible at dancing. With a partner anyways," he clarified. "Barty had a shot at tryin' ta teach me but he gave up saying I was 'clumsier than a heard o' elephants'." She laughed with him thinking that perhaps it would not have been so bad dancing with him after all.

He pulled out a hunk of break from his pocket and broke it in half. They munched and clapped while the other men sang and danced the night away.

* * *

"Lynn," whispered a voice. "Wake up."

"Not yet," she mumbled burrowing her face into her pillow. The voice laughed. "You're gonna knock me down if you don't stop." She shot up, now wide awake. Tom laughed again. "You sure are a pain to wake up," he said, not bothering to hide his grin. "Took me almost 10 minutes tha'."

"I- what?- How did I?" stuttered Lynn, slowly turning bright crimson as she skittered away from the lad.

"You fell asleep last night," he said, rotating his arm around in its socket. "I guess we weren't the only ones." He stretched, stifling a yawn.

Her 'pillow' as she discovered later, much to her chagrin, had been Tom's shoulder. A few men were dotted about the room, still dozing after the night's festivities. They moved as quietly as they could, trying not to disturb them while they picked up the discarded plates and cups from around the fire. She apologized profusely.

He brushed off her apologies easily, completely missing the point. "You're not really heavy or anything, an' you don't snore, so it's ok."

She subsided with one final apology, sensing Tom would not understand the direction her apologies were taking. She sighed, hoping that no one had seen them but knowing that everyone had. She grimaced inwardly, her mind automatically thinking of scandal and the gossip and rumours that would start when she suddenly realized with huge surge of relief that she didn't need to worry about any of that anymore. Who was going to care? Nobody was going to care! She thought happily. Suddenly feeling incredibly light and buoyant she turned to Tom.

"Thank you," she said, radiating pure happiness.

"For what?" he said, confused. "Oh, yeah. What're friends for, eh?" he said simply. And then, "D'you think Barty'll mind if I jus' leave these in the kitchen?"

Lynn laughed, still feeling joyful after her sudden realization. "I think he'll be quite put out with us if we do." Tom made a face. "Alright," she compromised, carrying her stack of dishes to the kitchen. "Then I'll do my half at least."

"Argh," said Tom following close behind her. "Barty'd kill me if I let you do that while I jus' sat aroun' watching. You're too nice," he added sulkily.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Bless my soul," said Barty, appearing at the kitchen doorway later that morning.

"Didn't know you had a soul Bart," joked Tom.

"Och, keep it down y'little monkey." He turned, spotting Lynn at the small table, still drying off the last of the dishes. "I'll bet my boots this boy didn' do this work of his own volition," he said, jerking his thumb in Tom's direction.

"I did too!" retorted the boy.

Lynn laughed. "He hardly put up a fuss at all-" Tom nodded triumphantly at the older man, "-only every five minutes or so."

Barty laughed his deep-bellied chuckle while Tom whined at the girl. "Aye, tha' sounds more like the Tom I know." He poured them all a hot drink and sat down. "So, where are you young'uns headed off to today?"

"Thought I'd show her the watering hole," said Tom.

"Hmm. Have you shown her the ship yet?"

"I was going to do that the minute she came- before you called us back up," he said accusingly.

Barty laughed and leaned towards Lynn confidingly, "Such a touchy one this feller." Lynn giggled behind her hand. Loudly he said,"I woudna had ta call y'back up if you'd done as I asked." Tom almost stuck his tongue out. "Go down t' the ship an' explore the caves t'morra. But firs'," he said wiping his hands. "I want you young'uns to help me wi' a few things."

Tom groaned audibly and put his head down on the table in defeat while Lynn smothered another laugh.

* * *

It had been four days since Lynn's 'disappearance', as they referred to it. The girls sat idly in the room, listless, waiting. The minutes ticked by. No one even bothered to make an attempt to break the stifling silence. Ada finally screamed a muted frustrated scream. "I cannot stand this any longer. If I should be made to stay in here for another day I shall go mad." The girls sighed collectively; this was not the first time Ada had voiced such thoughts.

"What do you propose we do?" asked Sonia tiredly, her voice barely louder than a whisper; she too had had this conversation far too many times.

Penelope ignored the conversation. When the girls had recounted to her the entire proceedings of her forgotten memories, she felt detached. She heard the things they were telling her and she could imagine her being disconsolate and such but she didn't _feel _those things anymore. Apparently the Prince had erased her memory of the incident 2 days after it'd occurred. It was as though they were telling her of someone else's plight which she could sympathise with well enough but could not quite make her own; she hadn't had the time to ruminate. Besides, once all the facts had been laid bare to her, she rather thought herself better off for not having to deal with such emotional torment. When she had ventured to as much to the others it was only by Sonia's sheer strength that Ada did not slap her. It was Ada who most vehemently refused the idea of having her memory wiped, stalking off at the mere mention of it.

It wasn't like they'd be able to do anything about it anyway- not if that was what the Prince wanted. Penelope sighed inwardly and though she knew it sounded cruel, she could not wait for the day when they'd all have their memories cleaned and they could return to the peaceful existence she had known and loved.

The Prince was of a similar sentiment it seemed, for later that same night, Ada was called for to meet the Prince.

* * *

_**2 Days later...**_

"I don't want to go!" whispered Maria tremulously. "I don't want to forget Lynn!" Sonia stroked her head, wiping away the tears. "It'll be alright," she soothed. The smaller girl pulled away."Promise me you won't let me forget. Promise me, Sonia." Sonia looked into the tear-filled brown eyes and cursed herself for having to make a promise she knew she would not be able to keep. "I promise." Maria let go of the her dress with a grateful smile and was whisked away.

As soon as the door slammed shut, the whirring of locks still echoing through the room, Ada and Penelope held counsel with the other girls. With a resigned sigh Sonia joined them.

"Don't tell her anything when she gets back," said Ada bluntly. A collective argument rose on twins' lips. "Just listen," she said. "Does she really need to have her heart broken again? You know how miserable she was, don't you think it'd be better for her to just let it go?"

"But could we really do that?" asked Lille. "Could we really just blot Lynn out like that. Just forget her as though she never were?"

"It would be an insult to her memory!" said Colette more fiercely. "It is all we have left of her! We could not." Sonia remained silent.

Ada stifled her frustration. "Fine then, keep your memories." They flinched at the harshness of her voice. "But please, for Maria's sake, don't remind her of the pain she already had to endure once. God knows I wish you hadn't reminded me," she muttered.

"Ada!"

"It is your own stubbornness that pushed us to tell you. Otherwise we would not!" said Colette, outraged.

"Then it is decided," said Ada without missing a beat. "Maria will not be told."

"Whatever the Prince did to us was effective," interjected Penelope quietly. "And I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything but it is quite... depressing; I mean, I can't remember Lynn, right?" Sonia, Lille and Colette nodded hesitantly. "But- and I don't want to hurt you, but I feel like I have to be sad, even if I'm not, because you are," she finished tentatively. "Does that make sense?"

"But we cannot help it, " said Lille, once again on the verge of tears.

"I didn't mean it like that!" said Penelope, aghast.

"What she meant was that we should spare Maria from having to suffer as well. And anyone else who does not wish to be reminded," surmised Ada. "It is your choice."

The girls lapsed into silence. At length, Sonia finally spoke. "I agree." Ada nodded. "Maria is too young to have to endure such sorrow on her neck, whatever she may think. As for myself, I have yet to decide."

"Lille? Colette?" asked Penelope.

"We too, would like more time," said Colette. "But yes, we do not want the little girl to be upset. We shall protect her."

"Thank you," said Penelope hugging each of them in turn. Sonia reciprocated the hug, engulfed with guilt. _Forgive me Maria_.

* * *

In another part of the forest, completely unaware of the ordeals faced by her friends (and Maria in particular), Lynn was tossing and turning restlessly in bed. She had been the Captain's 'guest' as it were for a whole week and still she could not coax sleep to her when the hour called for it. Although, truthfully, she could not really remember her first few night here, being as injured as she was. She huffed and stared at the ceiling. Perhaps counting sheep would make the sleep come easier. "1...2...3..."

_Knock. Knock. _

She sat up quickly.

"Yes?" she asked. Rob's shiny bald head appeared around the curtain.

"Good to see yer already awake. We're holdin' a meetin," he said, helping her out of bed. She looked at him quizzically. "The Capn' thinks it's time you were told."

* * *

**A/N: Finally fixed the horrible timeline that was splashed across this chapter. Hopefully this'll make it easier for anyone reading it after 28/11/10 to understand.**

*Link to _Nut Brown Maiden_- www. contemplator. com/scotland/nutbrown. html (just remove the spaces).


	14. Of Secrets and Sorrow

**A/N: Sorry for the edit in the last chapter . But I think the story flows better this way. This chapter is 'for the sake of all things amazing' and **flora236** who wrote me the one review I needed to finish it. Welcome aboard, and welcome to **Romance and Musicals** and **Rose the Slayer** too!

* * *

[EDIT 08.08.10]: Since I have no time to write a whole new chapter I instead went back and filled in all the juicy details I left out. Enjoy.  


* * *

  
**

"Are we all here?" he asked, surveying the grim faces around the fire. His eyes followed Lynn around the fire as Rob sat her down beside him. Lynn glanced at Marcus and the old man sitting to his right, partially hidden by shadow. She glanced at the unsmiling faces, so different to the ones she saw dancing that night and wondered what exactly was going on. The solemnity of the situation caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Tom was not among them, she noticed.

"Good. Now, most of you here know the story Ol' Aesop is about to re-tell us tonight," he said, his voice deep and serious. "But I believe, for the sake of our new guest, it is time it was retold." He stood back and resumed his place at the head of the circle amid murmurs of assent.

Aesop, a frail looking old man crowned in white hair sat forward and smiled wanly at her, almost apologetically. The congregation became deathly quiet. Aesop cleared his throat and began.

"A long time ago, far longer than most of you can remember," he began, "there was an island that sat blissfully in the middle of a vast ocean. The island had rich, fertile soil upon which pineapples, mangoes, and all manner of vegetation were found in abundance; underground caves filled with the hardiest of limestone to build the hardiest of houses and the most beautiful landscapes ever to grace the sight of man.

"Upon this island lived a people. They lived in peace with the island, taking for themselves what they needed and leaving untouched the rest. They were a happy people and as time went by, the population of the small island grew and before long settlements were being built right up to the edge of the Darkness._**" **_He glanced at Lynn but she said naught and waited patiently for him to continue.

Aesop nodded and resumed. "As I said, the people of the island lived in harmony with the island. This not only meant taking only what they needed but also leaving that which the knew should be left untouched. Among those things, the most important of them all, was the Darkness." He took a breath.

"One day, when the clouds covered the sun and a cold sea wind blew through the trees, a group of the five of the strongest and bravest hunters from the village ventured into the unexplored part jungle in search of more game for the feast that night. But instead of returning with succulent meats for the women to prepare only two of the five huntsmen returned, ashen faced and trembling. The people of the village asked them what had happened but they only shook their heads and repeated the same thing over and over: _'Do not go into the darkness_'. The two men soon fell ill and died of their sickness'. It was then the chief of the village prohibited the entry of that part of the forest- anyone who did make it out alive would be banished from the tribe. " Aesop's mouth settled into a thin, grim line. "From then on, the island was known as Cimmeria, for the perpetual mist and darkness that covered half of it ." Lynn felt a chill travel down her spine.

"Many years passed. Enough to make the tale of the Darkness fade from a dire warning to mere legend. It was during this time that I was growing up; a young boy living on Cimmeria. Days filled with beach-combing, climbing rocks, getting into trouble- all the things that came with being a child with the freedom of island life." A happy glaze filmed his eyes.

"There was a young woman we had in the village. Aria. She was the village sweetheart and also the daughter of the then village chief. Everybody loved her; the men were in love with her for her big eyes and silky black tresses that cascaded down her back to her waist, while the women loved her for her kindness and sweet nature. Now that I come to think about it," he said tapping his chin and fixing his surprisingly steady gaze on her. "She looked a bit like you, to be honest. But not quite as fair. Eyes and all," he said. Lynn could feel her eyes getting even rounder but he just nodded and continued. "And the children just loved her for being her. She smiled and laughed and played with them, she made circlets of flowers for the little girls and kneeled in the dirt to play with the boys. A fine young woman. But in all of Cimmeria there was no one that could challenge a love so deep for her as the little boy with the biggest eyes and the biggest heart on the island: her son Peder. Her husband came a mighty close second though," he laughed.

"It was unfortunate then, perhaps, that this lovely young family were among the settlers who lived at the edge of the Darkness. Of course, at first the Chief was reluctant to have his only daughter live so close to the Darkness but Aria brushed away his fears with a pleading smile and a kiss, saying that her husband had built the hut especially for her so how could she live anywhere else? It was in that very hut that Peder was born.

"Peder was a remarkably troublesome young lad for such wonderful parents- always getting himself into mischief, he was. It was probably because his mother loved him too much, spoiled him rotten," he chuckled. "He'd gotten his mother's famous dark hair and his father's blue eyes. Everybody said he was sure to be a heart-breaker when he got older." Aesop paused and took a sip of water, setting the cup down with a relieved 'Ahh' before continuing.

"Living on an island, naturally the main occupation for the men of our village was fishing." Lynn nodded. "And Peder's father was no exception. Every morning, along with the other men of the village, he went down to the edge of the sea and cast off in his fishing boat with his nets and spears to feed his new family and sell the extra he caught in the market. And every morning before sunrise, Aria would walk down to the beach and wave to him and the other men as they sailed off in their little wooden boats." Aesop looked up at Lynn. "Aria loved her husband very much. And he loved her even more," he said quietly. "But one day he didn't come back."

Lynn's heart sank.

"Drowned. During a sudden storm way out at sea. She was heartbroken." Lynn could feel her eyes beginning to prick with tears. "Peder was devastated. He was as furious as a five-year old could be. Aria grieved, as was the custom, for five days and nights. That was a terrible time," said Aesop, shaking his head with the memory of it. "The village had been swallowed whole by sorrow. It seemed we would never see Aria smile again. But after the burial ceremony I remember watching her face across the fire and a warm nighttime breeze lifted her hair as the village elder said a few prayers for her late husband I saw the barest flicker of a smile dance across her tear-streaked face. She soldiered on after his death- didn't let the sadness overshadow her life. That isn't to say that she acted as though it never happened but she still smiled. Albeit less brightly, but the smile was still there. Aria loved life; living.

Peder on the other hand, was still only a child and now refused to go anywhere near the sea. He loathed the very sight of it. And while his mother had found a way to move on, four months later the boy was still as sullen and as unhappy as though his father had died that very day. Aria was distraught. She made him promise to be happy, for her sake. She could not bear the sight of her child so sad. And finally the boy, ever ready to please his mother, agreed."

Lynn could picture the scene.

_Aria, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, her young face still bearing the lines of grief she should not have had to endure. Sadness in her big eyes. She cradles her child, soothing him, stroking his hair, clutching him to his chest. 'I want you to promise me that you'll try to be happy,' she says, kissing his head, his nose, his cheek. 'For my sake. You are the strong man in my life now,' she says, smiling through the tears that have welled up. The blue eyes of her late husband stare back at her, heartbreak written in their depths. The boy says not a word, but nods..._

"And try he did," said Aesop, staring sadly into his wrinkled hands, pulling her out of her thoughts. "That little boy tried harder than I've ever seen anyone try to be happy. But his heart wasn't in it. He tried for his mother's sake, as he had promised but the childish games and toys just didn't seem to interest him anymore. When he grew older, the boys of the village were taught to fish as they had been for generations, the craft being passed down from father to son. Peder's uncle, his mother's brother, offered to take him along with his own son but the boy still refused to go near the sea. His mother tried persuading him to go a few times, teasing him, sometimes praising what a good fisherman he'd make. But he told her it was the one thing he could not do for her. She did not push the matter after that.

Instead he made a living by weaving and selling the nets and baskets he made. Sometimes helping out on the farms. His mother collected clams and such to sell at the market. And of course, her father and brother helped out whenever they could not make ends meet. They managed to save up and a few years later they bought of a small plot of farming land. Peder was about seventeen by now. Almost ten years since his father's death. " He paused, a small sigh escaping his lips. "Things were going so well. Aria smiled freely now, as happy as she ever was. I remember watching her dance with Peder at the annual midsummer festival. He'd grown into such a shy young man; never asked any girl to dance. And he was just as handsome as everyone said he would grow up to be. Had all the girls wrapped around his little finger I tell you, and without even trying." He paused, running a hand over his weathered face, grimacing almost. "Aria still collected the small sea-creatures by the rock pools. Not that she needed too but she insisted she needed to do something now that Peder was so strong and capable- he was making her feel old, she used to joke. Peder was at their farm..." He shook his head, unable to continue. Hook leaned down and settled one hand on the old man's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Aesop nodded and raised his head once more.

"He was at their farm when it happened. Aria had been stung by one of the most poisonous shallow-water jellyfish known to islanders. She was rushed immediately to the healers hut. For a while her fever abated and everyone was sure she was going to survive. Peder stayed by her bedside the entire time; he'd run all the way from the farm as soon as he heard- almost on the other side of the island. But when the healers returned to check on her in the morning, she was gone. " Lynn's hands flew to her mouth. "They carried out the ceremony that very night. Her body was sent out to sea, reunited with her husband as was her dying wish. Floating on a raft decorated with palm leaves and birds of paradise. The whole village gathered on the beach that night. There was not a single dry face among the congregation," he murmured. He lapsed into silence, buried in his thoughts.

"What happened to Peder?" whispered Lynn, unthinkingly.

The old man shook free of his reverie and looked at her, different expressions flitting over his face; regret, sadness, anger... "He vanished."

Lynn's surprise was palpable.

"Right after the funeral, he left," continued the man. "No one saw him for sure after that. Search parties were sent out for a whole week; everyone was looking. But he could not be found. Some suggested that he had taken his own life, by the sea, to be with his parents. But the men said they had never seen the boy walk past and his uncle had sat there all week, actually waiting for it it happen so he could bring the boy home. Still nothing. The search went on for months. Eventually, the only place left to search was the forest. But no sane man dared venture there and so the search was abandoned. People reasoned that it was plausible seeing as his house did border the forest. The boy was pronounced dead; no one could survive in there." Lynn nodded.

"For seven long years after that, the village flourished as usual; the crops, the people, the fishing..." He sighed. "And then the nightmare began." He stared into the fire with a haggard look marring his usually kind features. "Children began disappearing. One by one they vanished from their beds. There was chaos. Mothers became hysterical and the children were too afraid to sleep. There was nothing anyone could do.

"And then, one day, the Darkness began to grow_._ All the settlements built near the Darkness were engulfed in eternal shadow and the trees seemed to reach out and grab them, as though they were alive. People were terrified. Then the crops started to fail. The sea that was usually so calm and plentiful with fish began tossing men overboard so frequently that it was no longer safe to sail. We began to starve; the island was becoming uninhabitable. And the children continued to disappear.

"We couldn't explain it, any of it. Then, someone said they knew who it was. We were sure the woman had lost her mind but she was adamant. And then I saw him myself." He looked up. "It was Peder. He looked as young as the day he had disappeared. 'Why?' I asked him, 'Why are you doing this?' For he had been a friend to me and his actions made no sense. He was thin. His skin was deathly pale; he looked like a corpse. He stared at me for a moment, with eyes like shards of ice and disappeared. "

Lynn felt the blood leave her face. _Eyes like shards of ice... _

"I ran to the chief of the village and told him what I had seen. He was skeptical. How could his grandson, seven years gone, suddenly reappear looking as young as a boy? The chief ignored me, told me I was as mad as the woman for believing such folk tales. But I know what I saw and even though he did not believe me he could not refute the fact that, Peder or not, the children had not returned. And more continued to disappear. Eventually he ordered everyone to pack the meager belongings they had and evacuate the island. The women and children left on every spare vessel we had, most of the men going with them. But a group of us stayed behind. The Chief said we were on a fools errand but he wished us luck. We were those who had either lost a child or like me who believed we still had a chance of bringing some back. The other men said we'd lost our minds but we had hope. We were determined to succeed," he said grimly.

"We ventured into the forest, armed with spears and knives. Almost as soon as we set forth the darkness seemed to settle even on our emotions and more than one man turned and left almost immediately. The few who could stomach the desolation- only a small group of us- soldiered on.

"We could not tell for sure how many days had passed but the hunger in our stomachs told us we had been there for some time. Finally, after about a week of searching, just as we were about to give up, we saw something...

"It was nighttime, there was a full moon out, dappling silver shadows over everything. And there he was. At the edge of the fire we had made, just beyond it's yellow light, there he stood bathed in a pool of moonlight. '_Go,_' he'd said, his usually expressionless face distorted with some strong emotion. '_You will not find what you seek._' Perhaps it was disgust? Rage? Maybe even fear- I cannot say. The men were outraged; they lunged for him. But they couldn't touch him. They began writhing on the ground, clutching their heads before they were even two feet away."

Lynn turned her head away, having experienced the sensation herself. Her stomach knotted. Why did she feel the odd need to protect the Prince? Like he needed defending. He had done terrible things after all...

Aesop ploughed on. "He wasn't touching them but the way they were screaming..." his mouth settled into a grim line and more than one man began muttering under his breath. "It was like they were being tortured with knives," he whispered, closing his eyes. Lynn felt the tears gathering in her eyes as she watched the old man relive the pain of his memories. Marcus' expression was black and dangerous.

"And then, almost like in a dream, a woman appeared." His voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Shadows swirled around Peder for a moment and then, there she was, standing behind him. She looked like a sylph. Or some dark, faerie queen. She wore a gown that looked like it was made from the night sky; black and shimmering with stars. Like him. Her eyes were liquid onyx. She was terrifying," he said, shaking his head. "Beautiful but terrifying."

"Then she smiled at us and beckoned us towards her, wrapping herself around Peder as she did, stroking his face and running her hand through his hair. He was like stone, in both expression and stance; he didn't notice her at all."

"By now the men were bewitched. The could not tear their eyes off her._ I_ could not tear my eyes off her. I do not know what they were experiencing but I swear I could hear her voice in my head. Her lips were not moving but suddenly all I could see were her eyes like black holes and her soft, whispering voice in my head. _'Come with me,' _she said. _'Come and I will fulfill all your dreams._' I couldn't look away. _'Come,' _she said again. '_I know what it is you desire, Hansor. I can give it to you.' -_How she knew my name I do not know. She was terrible," he said again. "Her voice invaded my mind. I believed her- I wanted to believe her. It would have been so easy," he said.

"Then Peder looked at me, barely turning his head. And the spell was broken. I felt like I had been drenched in cold water. I looked around, dazed, but the other men were still inching towards her. I could already hear her voice trickling into my head, telling me to stay, that it would be better that way... So I ran." He looked down ashamedly at his hands. "I just ran," he said. "And I didn't look back."

A thick, heavy silence descended upon the circle and Marcus rested a hand on the old man's shoulder. "It had to be told." he said softly, regretfully. The old man nodded and sighed wearily.

The Captain, known fondly as 'Hook' for his hook-like, broken nose, looked at his crew. He saw the anger, the anticipation and the hint of fear in their faces. He had a plan and they needed to be told what it was. He looked at the girl whose soft heart had already squeezed tears out onto her face. She was the one who would need to be told most of all...

Lynn crawled into bed ignoring the hot tears that slid down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip to keep from making a sound. Images flashed before her eyes; her brothers, sleepy and scared, looking to her for comfort; her friends, trapped and subservient: children. Everywhere she turned, children...

Aesop lifted away the curtain and watched the sleeping girl sadly. The tear tracks tarnishing her lovely face were visible even in the low light. He sighed. Perhaps there would come a day where children could sleep untainted by grief._ Perhaps one day soon...

* * *

__  
_**A/N: THE most important chapter in the ENTIRE story (well, this and the next). And I had an absolute blast writing it! =)**** Things will proceed pretty quickly after this but I'm gonna take a bit of a break. Cookies for those who guess the 'scary lady's' original name ;) As always, tell me what you think!  
**

_*NOTE: Yes, I deliberately changed 'Peter' to 'Peder'- I just couldn't see such an English name springing up on an island. (It's pronounced Peh-dur, not Pee-dur ;p).

* * *

_**[EDIT]: Like it? Quite a few of you have correctly guessed SL's name but I'll hand out cookies in the next ch. Oh, and I particularly loved **Jay**'s first guess. Not quite right but it would make for a delicious plot **_XP  
_


	15. Hook's Tale

"L~ynn, Lynn!"

She jumped. "Wha-?"

"Your breakfast has gotten all cold and horrible," said Tom, picking up her porridge-filled spoon. "What happened last night? Crickets keep you awake or something?" His big blue eyes swam in her vision. She rubbed her face tiredly and gave a weak laugh.

"Something like that." Tom continued to peer closely at her till she was forced to flush. "I'm fine Tom!" she said laughingly, pushing him away a little. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Tom pulled back, hands up in defense. "Ok, ok!" He laughed. "Here, I'll put your share of dishes away while you finish your breakfast."

"Thanks, Tom," she said softly. She moved her spoon around and sighed. She had hardly gotten any sleep to begin with and the little that she had had been fitful and full of the most confusing dreams.

There was just so much on her mind.

...

_The Captain, known fondly as 'Hook' for his hook-like nose, looked at his crew. "This story is to remind us what we are fighting for. It reminds us why we should not give up." The men nodded grimly._

_"Time for bed, gents," said Rob. The men got up, draining the last drops of liquid in their cups and stretching from having sat for so long before retreating to the tunnel that led to the sleeping chambers. Lynn got up to join them until-_

_"Not you, Princess," said Rob. She could see a hint of apology in his eyes. "The Captain would like to have a short talk with you before you go."_

_"Would you mind, Lynn?"_

_"Not at all."She took the seat indicated by Rob and folded her hands in her lap._

_"You may be wondering why I've taken the pains to have old Aesop re-tell that old story, even though the men have all heard it several times already." Marcus, who had been watching her intently, nodded. "Yes, that telling was mostly for your benefit. I think it only fair for you to understand the history of the island if you are to help cure its disease."_

_"Me?" asked Lynn._

_He nodded again. "I think _you_ can help us defeat him once and for all. Help us free all your friends, your brothers and all the other children that demon prince has enslaved." Lynn's eyes widened. "But you only know half the tale," he said, leaning back. "You know of its history but only fragments of its current condition. And what sort of cure can be administered if the symptoms are unknown?"_

_She sat up a little straighter. "Tell me," she said. She fought against a yawn and lost. Marcus gave her a rueful smile._

_"Perhaps the story will have to wait; it seems I have robbed you of far too much sleep already." Rob helped the young girl stand. "I'll tell you tomorrow," he said. "Until then, goodnight..."_

_..._

"Lynn!" She jumped in her seat, startled out of her thoughts. "Just as I thought, with you conked out like that; not a bite eaten unless I'm sitting on your head." Tom folded his arms and frowned. She gave him an apologetic smile.

"I guess I'm not very hungry today."

He huffed. "Alright, fine. But don't come cryin' to me if you start feelin' faint around lunchtime."

Lynn stared after him without really seeing him. '_I'll tell you tomorrow...'_

Her anticipation was poorly concealed.

It had been almost a week since the incident and by now all the girls had had their memories erased. All the girls except Sonia and Lille.

When they had come for Colette before Lille, the older French twin had frozen in fear. Struggling against the two stone-faced guards with all her might she made her sister swear that she would remind her, that Lille could not let her sister's mind be 'riddled with holes, like a piece of rotting fruit.' Lille had nodded, tears in her eyes and Colette's face relaxed for a fraction of a second before she was dragged away.

Lille had cried and cried and cried. How could betray her sister's trust? Her own flesh and blood... But Ada was a smart girl and she used her knowledge of the girls' personalities ruthlessly.

"Listen to me," she said, taking no notice of the girl's swollen eyes and red cheeks. "You would not be saving your sister from anything if you were to tell her. You would be making her more miserable. Reminding her what-"

"But I promised!" said Lille, tears streaming relentlessly down her cheeks.

"Shhh!" hissed Ada. "Do you wish to wake Maria too?" The girl quietened her sobs while Ada continued. "Believe me, you would be doing your sister a bigger favour than you can imagine." Lille looked at her with swollen eyes. "If you knew something would hurt your sister would you give it to her? Would you give her bread if it was poisoned, even if she begged for it?"

"Of course not! How dare-"

"These memories will poison her mind. They will do nothing but throw her into the pits of despair. Are you willing to-"

"Enough!" Ada halted mid-sentence. Sonia came forward, her face trembling with fury. "You have said more than enough Ada. I do not know what sort of utopia you think you will create by forcing your 'friends' into something they do not wish to do, but it is _Lille's_ decision what to tell her sister. Not yours!" The two girls glared at one another.

"Fine," huffed Ada, stalking off.

Sonia bent down and stroked the French girl's hair. "Don't worry," she said softly. "I'm sure you'll choose what's best for your sister."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Colette stood before the Prince, terror and anger slicing through her veins like a double-edged sword.

The Prince beckoned her forwards and the two small guards pushed her from behind when she did not comply. She stared defiantly into the Prince's masked face as though daring him to try anything but her fear overcame her power of speech and so she remained mute.

The Prince's icy blue eyes were unreadable behind his mask but the lines of his face betrayed his displeasure at what he no doubt considered a menial task. Still he stared at her and Colette could feel her resolve slowly crumbling. Crumbling under that steadfast, emotionless gaze. A gaze that told her she was powerless before him, that if anything she should be grateful to him- grateful that he had let her live. She could feel herself getting drowsy. A heavy, numbing fog stole over her mind. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation. "Lynn..." she mumbled.

_There is no Lynn._

"No Lynn..." she mimicked.

_She was only a memory, a dream; a figment of your imagination..._

"A dream," she repeated.

"Go," said the Prince snapping her out of her hypnotic state. Colette shook her head, which suddenly felt very heavy, as though filled with water. She was seated on an ottoman at the Prince's knee. One of the guards brought forth a small goblet filled to the brim with dark liquid. "Drink," ordered the Prince. She did as she was told and felt her head clear instantly.

"You have done well, Colette."

She returned the small goblet, stood up and bowed. "Thank you, my Prince."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The heavy wooden door swung open. Lille immediately stood up to embrace her sister. "How did it go?" she asked.

Colette waved her hand airily. "The usual," she said. Both Sonia and Ada were listening to the conversation.

"The Prince, he did not seem strange?"

"No," replied Colette. "Why would he?"

"N-no reason... Tell me," said Lille, her voice trembling as she helped her sister undress. "What did he say to you?" The routine was normal for the two sisters.

"He said I had done well, nothing more." Colette's tone remained indifferent but in truth she could not remember much of her encounter with the Prince at all. She'd gone into the chamber and before she knew it had been handed a drink and then the meeting was over. "He did not keep me for very long."

"Ah," said Lille, her throat tight. "Well then, I shall help Sonia." She gave her sister one last hug fearing the beads of moisture would overspill before she could turn away.

"Lille?" She had no choice but to turn back. Colette stared at her with concern, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Is there something wrong?" Lille bit her lip, willing the tears away.

"Nothing," she whispered. "It is nothing."

"Come on Michael, quickly now."

"But I'm tired," sobbed the little boy. "I want to go home!"

John knelt down. "Come on, you can ride on my back. But keep quiet, alright?" The little boy smiled happily and clambered onto his older brother's back. "Hold on tight now." John walked back through the dark, dank underground tunnels to his workstation. Several boys nodded to him as he passed, thin, weary and all clutching pickaxes. He reached the end of the passage and settled his younger brother on the ground. Glancing at the guard-free exits he decided to let the boy sleep.

The echo of sharp clangs soon filled the cavernous space but the little boy's exhaustion was too great and so he did not stir. John wiped his forehead and was forced to sit down unable to continue for very long even after his short respite. He panted, his breath coming out in small white puffs. He chafed his arms and gazed up at the glittering black ceiling. When was the last time he'd seen the sky? A flash of silver memory struck him and he felt the familiar feeling of his throat getting tight. An afternoon picnic in the park, Mother and Father in their Sunday best, Lynn looking as pretty as a summer rose and smiling at him...

Mother...Father... _Lynn._

He felt the saline tears prick his eyes.

_Where are you, Lynn?_

"Please, give some thought to what I have asked. It is crucial that you remember."

"I'll try my best."

Lynn made her way back to her room, her mind whirling. If only she could recall the way. But she had only been there once- remembering the exact route was impossible! And, as Rob had helpfully put in, she'd suffered quite a bad fall so it was surprising that she even remembered the amount of detail that she did. And yet, if only she could remember the way! Her brows furrowed in thought. So those _were_ the mines she had seen on her way to the clearing with the girls. But the scale of the operation that the Captain had described was unimaginable-

'_We called ourselves the Lost Boys._ _Hundreds of young lads, slaving away in pitch darkness. Occasionally, we were sent a girl...'_

Lynn chafed her arms. Those were the poor souls the girls had warned her of becoming, those who had not satisfied the Prince...

'_Agonite, we called it, for the agony it induced.' He chuckled humourlessly. 'That hellhole brought to mind every happy memory one had. You might think it'd keep spirits high, being reminded of the good times, but you'd be wrong. It just reminded you that you weren't there. So you worked to keep your mind occupied because otherwise your memories and the sheer longing to return would kill you.''_

She shuddered.

'..._That was worse than anything, worse than even the feeling that your bones were about to drop off from being so tired. So unbelievably tired you wanted to collapse... '_

Her feet trod the sandy path while her mind wandered.

Marcus had said that the smell was the escape of underground sulphurous gases. Those mines were emptied and given a few days for the air to become breathable again but the smell usually persisted and the boys got used to it. They were given enough to eat on the condition that they didn't stop working. And the work wasn't too difficult; the mines were full of the gems- Agonite- and they were dislodged with the slightest pressure. But even so, somehow the boys still became thin and frail_- 'Watching them work, it was like watching their lives being sucked out.' _And once they stopped working the depression set in. The other boys would cover for them as best they could but even so when it became too obvious they were taken away.

Marcus had refused to anything more on the subject. His expression showed clearly how painful the memory was for him and she did not dare press him for any more details. But if what he said remained true then there was a good chance that her brothers were alright. She lifted away the thin drapery to her room, her expression hopeful but decidedly grim.

"So what did the Captain want?"

"Tom!" she exclaimed. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

The boy stood up and scratched his face. "Well, I just saw you heading to the Captain's quarters, and it's pretty late, so I was just wondering what it was about." He looked so awkward standing there.

"He just wanted to ask me a few questions," she said. Well, it was mostly true. But still he was unconvinced. "You know, from before I got here," she added.

"Oh, right," he said, his expression clearing. "Yeah, I guess he would have questions 'bout that."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "The Captain's always been real interested 'bout that place. Sometime sends people up there." He laughed embarrassedly. "Can't say I've bin there myself though."

Lynn laughed half-heartedly along with him. "Hmm."

"Yeah, well. Sorry to bother you," he said. "I'll see you in the mornin'. 'Night."

"Good night, Tom." She stared at the softly swaying fabric, the last of Marcus' little 'talk' repeating inside her head.

...

_'Do not repeat any of this to Thomas.'_

_'Tom? Why not?'_

_'He was a Lost Boy too, once. But as you can see, he doesn't remember much.' Marcus fixed her with a leveled gaze. 'I'd appreciate it if you didn't have to remind him. He's been through quite a lot of trauma for his age already.'_

_..._

She sighed and undid her ponytail. Poor Tom. Considering what most of them had gone through this was the least she could do for him.

* * *

**A/N:** Is it too confusing? Verrry rushed, this chapter. But Michael and John FTW! I really want to give them a longer piece but I just didn't have the time. I'll let you know if I add anything to this later on.


	16. Can I have some more, please?

**A/N: A filler chapter- coz I honestly don't have time for anything else.**

_

* * *

Dong! Dong! Dong!_

The echoing chimes of the dinner gong silenced the cacophony of pickaxes hitting stone. Up to a hundred small pairs of feet trundled through the near-total darkness to an almost spacious cavern that held several long tables lined with benches: the mess hall. Snaking through the middle of the cave were two lines that stretched on for what felt like miles to their hollow stomachs. It led to the equivalent to a pot of gold; their evening meal. Sometimes it was clear broth with a piece of bread, other times it was porridge. But whatever it was- tasteful or not- there was never a drop left in the iron cauldron by the end of the night.

John held two bowls in his hands, shuffling forwards as the line surged and stopped. Michael had been too tired to wait in line today so he'd left the boy to rest on the bench with Phil. He looked at the small wooden bowls in his hands and then at the nearing pot where the guard stood, doling out helpings of food. "I hope they let me take Michael's portion," he murmured to himself.

"You can never tell with this lot," whispered someone, jerking his thumb towards the guard. "It all depends on the Prince's moods I've learned; they're like a mirror to 'em. If he ain't happy then they ain't happy- which means pretty soon we ain't gonna happy." The boy chuckled quietly. John nodded absently and continued to furrow his brow in worry. If Michael didn't eat properly he'd get sick very quickly and John didn't think that he could keep on working hard enough for the both of them- it was backbreaking just trying to fill his own quota every day. "Listen," said the boy as the line moved forwards again, noting his distress. "Don't worry 'bout it. If they don't give little Mike his share then me an' some of the bigger boys will give him some of ours. He'll get his share one way or another."

John turned to the boy, who was at least a few years older than him. "Thank you," he whispered, evidently relieved. All along the line he could hear snippets of muted conversation, tired laughs at jokes not really funny but if it was a chance to hear another's voice then the boys would keep talking. The boy's name was Sam, as it turned out.

"How many groups are there in total, Sam?" he asked.

"You mean squads? Well, lemme see. Now I've bin here for quite a while an' I've only ever met four diffrn't squads. It's hard to tell though, y'know? Hard to meet the same person twice in mess unless they're pretty recognizable," Sam laughed, scratching his face. John nodded.

It was true. Each 'squad' had up to fifty boys in it and often two to three squads used the mess hall at the same time. John whispered back and forth to the redhead behind him, telling him about Michael, how he found the caves; his shifts.

Every day there were two to three shifts completed with each boy having to complete a complimentary set of at least two. Younger boys, like Michael, were sometimes allowed to get off with just one while some of the bigger boys were made to do three, but usually not on a regular basis. John wasn't sure how many groups they were split into but so far, on his breaks, he'd met up to three different groups. There were never any girls.

Every boy, when they first arrived, would be brimming with life and strength. Sure, they'd be upset about being in a strange place and not knowing where they were but they had no problem mining the black gems and could often speak and laugh freely- when the occasion arose. But sooner or later their limbs would get heavier and heavier and they would tire faster. The laughs would be slower coming and the smiles almost gone. It wasn't anything physical; the workload was no different (and John was pretty sure there was nothing in the food) but the strength seemed to be sucked out of them. The workload would be reduced accordingly if it got to be too much and they would pick up their axe and start again. But worse than their failing strength or raging appetite were the voices.

The voices were different to everyone and though John had never gained a confession from one of the other boys, he could tell by the looks on their faces that they were going through the same thing. Voices of ghosts, ghosts of your own past, haunting you, tormenting you, pushing you to the brink of despair. They weren't voices exactly, but the soundtrack of memories. And when you closed your eyes the pictures belonging to those memories would appear too. Many a time they worked in pitch darkness so closed lids weren't always a neccessity.

Often there came a time when one of them could take it no longer and he would stop working, creating a hole in the clamour that the guards almost never missed. The boy would be taken away. Sometimes he was given a drink and some food and rejoined the squad a few days later. And sometimes he did not.

It was the reason why they usually worked in pairs or trios. Small groups to ward off the insanity. Often they could not carry out full conversations to carry over the noise but if someone was standing near they could read the expressions on your face- the small nod, the faint smile, the series of words formed by tapping in the rocks. For the miner boys had created a hidden language. It was a way of communicating, of translating the discord into order- a form of unspoken speech. It wasn't taught, but picked up. It was something you you had to feel. It warded off the voices- but only just.

"My big brother became a Vet.," said Sam suddenly, as they shuffled forwards. "Came in together we did, then one day I didn' see him in Mess."

John hesitated, not wanting to upset his new friend. "But how can you be sure?"

"Ain't no way he was taken away- he was even bigger'n me," Sam laughed. "Nah, if anything he got out." Eyeing John's discomfited look he added, "I'm not saying that I know for sure he survived-" John winced. "-I'm saying he got out, is all."

The mines had a hierarchy of sorts. For the length of time he'd served in the caves, John was considered to be little higher than a rookie. Sam on the other hand was a fully-fledged Captain, the only higher position being Veteran- which you didn't get unless you got out of the caves and survived. Often John believed Veterans were fables the boys told to comfort themselves.

The guard was feeling strangely generous for all the glowering looks he sent, and filled both Michael's bowl as well as John's. Sam winked at John as he passed. John grinned back, whispering a thanks as he passed and hurried to where he'd left Michael.

"Poor tyke was so hungry I let him have my share- didn't look as though he'd survive the wait," joked Phil. Michael was spooning down the so soup quickly he was barely taking a breath between mouthfuls.

"No I didn't," protested the little boy, spoon suspended momentarily in mid-air. "Honest, John! I told him I'd wait for mine-"

"With those big ol' blues staring at me, now how was I supposed to eat?" teased Phil, mussing the little boy's hair. John smiled and passed Phil Michael's share.

"Thanks, Phil," he said, sliding in beside him.

"Don't mention it."

The two older boys watched as Michael gulped down his food faster than either than them and left a little in their bowls before he was done, both feigning fullness though the low inaudible growls of their stomachs screamed otherwise.

"You sure, John?" asked Michael, face creased in concern. Phil waved him on-

"'Course we are, we ain't that hungry today anyways, are we John?"

John shook his head. "Honestly, Michael. Have it- you need to keep your strength up."

"Ok, then," said the boy happily digging into his newfound meal. "Thanks John! Thanks Phil!" John ruffled his hair fondly and took his and Phil's empty bowls to the wash station. The best thing about dinner was not only the food but the promise of sleep. Ah, blissful oblivion.

The gong sounded just as he returned drying his hands on his shirtfront. He smiled a small smile as Michael ran towards him happily. He'd hang on for as long as it took, if only for Michael's sake. He held the boy's hands and spun him around; a novelty he had not been able to expend often since coming to the mines. Michael giggled in delight- "Higher! Higher!" Phil laughed.

Sam joined the trio accompanied by a smile.

"Time for bed, lads."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so a peek into what the boys have bin through all this time. I seriously love Michael- couldn't believe they didn't list him as a charrie. Sorry for the lame-ness guys but Exams are eating my braiinsssss! and only you can help! SO review! Nao! XP**


	17. Plots and Plannings

**A/N: **Well lookee here, an update. **BTW** I have gone back and revised ch. 10-14 so that the timeline/sequence of events is a little easier to follow. I haven't gotten round to fixing ch.15 (which is a a real mess, I know ==) but I will as soon as I get the chance.

Oh, and would anyone want me to put up a timeline in my profile for this story so that you aren't all hopelessly lost? Leave a review if you do.

* * *

"Ah," said Tom, wiping his wet hands on a cloth. "Well that's it for dinner." Lynn smiled even though he could see her already beginning to nod off. He looked at her, head cocked to one side. "Tell you what," he said eventually. "I'll even do your share of dishes tonight. But y'have to promise me you'll get some real sleep tonight. Or else-" he pulled his finger across his throat in a slicing motion and let his head dangle goofily on his neck.

Lynn laughed. "It's a deal. Thanks, Tom."

"Its alrigh'," he said, suddenly feeling bashful. "But it's a one-time deal- else Barty'll start to think I don't mind doin' m'chores!"

Lynn joined in his laugh, thinking of the burly chef. Tom got up and began stacking plates with a final slicing motion towards the girl before turning his back and heading towards the kitchen. He was beginning to worry about his friend; this was the third time in a row he'd caught her dozing in her porridge.

She really was nice. Sure, she was a little weird about manners and eating nicely and sitting properly and a bout a hundred other things he'd never paid no heed to, but she was fun to be with- even if she was a chicken sometimes. He grinned remembering how scared she was of Barty that first day after he practically dragged her down to the shipyard. Barty!

He felt like he'd known her forever. She was the best friend he'd ever had and it wasn't only because they were the closest in age. She was scared but willing to try, she was sensible enough to keep Barty in a good mood but not too sensible that she'd say no to sneaking off. He trusted her. She was honest, funny, beautiful-

Tom shook his head, blushing all by himself. Had it really only been just over a week since she'd arrived?

...

* * *

Lille had been summoned and returned not two days after her sister. And even though Sonia knew it had only been four days at the most since then, she had never felt more disconsolate in her life.

Sonia felt completely alone. A feeling which only intensified when even Ada began to get confused as to why and no amount of subtle hints (which normally would have the German stalking off in annoyance or consoling her, depending on her mood) rang any bells that Sonia was still grieving; it had only been two weeks, after all.

Clearly, the Prince's power surpassed all. As soon as Ada stopped actively remembering Lynn, her memory seemed to revert to the carefully edited canvas it had been after her visit to the Prince. The same went for Penelope as well- neither of them seem to be able to recall a thing. Colette had never been reminded and Lille had specifically asked not to be either.

She felt as though she was living amongst amnesiacs and at first even worried whether their memories had been permanently damaged in some way. But it was soon clear that the Prince was a master at his art and only the select memories touched by Lynn seemed to have been removed.

So it was just her. Forced to live choked by the terrible secret, aching for someone to share her grief so as to lessen it but unable to re-break her friends' heart. Sonia could not understand what was taking the Prince so long; she deserved her freedom too. So she resolved to be patient.

It was this that she reminded herself when the aching got too much and the haunting memories would not let her forget.

Her time would come.

...

* * *

Although Tom knew he could trust Lynn he could not help but suspect that she was keeping something from him of late- in the times he got to speak to her at least. She'd been here two weeks in total now and this past week she might not have even come to the cave for all he saw her. He did know part of the reason why, though: the Captain was going to launch an attack on the Demon prince.

It explained a lot of things; why he hardly saw her these days, why all the men looked so serious all the time and why Barty suddenly seemed to think there was going to be a famine. Honestly, the amount of food he'd had him collecting was enough to feed an entire army!

He understood why but it didn't stop him from feeling a twinge of jealousy every time Lynn was called to the Captain's room or or sent out with a few of the men to do some of them important things while he was sent out to collect another barrel of fresh water or something. It wasn't a nice feeling- not one he was proud of in the least- but if he could have just talked to Lynn every once in a while; find out what was really going on, _what_ she was doing all day, how she was doing... then maybe he wouldn't feel so bad- so left out. These days, in between Barty ordering him about like a pack mule and her being whisked away to do who knew what, the only time he saw her was at dinner and then there was so much noise and so many men surrounding them it was hard to get a word in edgeways.

What exactly _did_ Lynn do all day? He hardly saw her in the cave, that was for sure. And it couldn't take a whole week just to tell the Cap'n about her time with the Demon- heck, she'd told them plenty in just one night. And Cecco! Why was she always around Cecco, of all people! Tom didn't have anything personal against the guy but he was, without a doubt, one of the toughest members of all the crew; what was it that needed doing with a guy like that around? Tom frowned, not getting any closer to the truth than he had for the past week.

And then there'd be the times where he'd just catch her looking at him, all sad, like there was something about him that pained her. It made him feel weird- like there was something he ought to have known but didn't. Like he already knew, or was supposed to know, somehow. Sometimes he felt so bad inside for not knowing that his chest would hurt. Which was silly, wasn't it?

He sighed, throwing himself onto his bed, hands clasped beneath his head. He didn't know the exact plan but he knew the Captain was planning something big. He'd heard snippets of conversations about a mine too. He didn't know much else because for some reason everyone seemed to stop talking as soon as he got within earshot. He couldn't ask them about it afterwards either because they'd change the subject so fast that they _might've_ been talking about something else and it _could_ just be him hearing things.

That was another thing, why was everyone so intent on him not knowing the full picture? Sure he was the youngest outta the crew but he was still part of the crew, wasn't he? It wasn't like he'd betray them or anything. Just the thought made him grimace. This was what bothered him the most, that even Lynn didn't think he was trustworthy enough to know the truth. Perhaps she was too worried about her brothers that it had slipped her mind? Made her forget that her old friend Tom was being left outta the loop? Surely she wasn't forgetting him deliberately. The Captain's jobs didn't make it any easier for her either- whatever he made her do. But what if she'd been avoiding him on purpose? What if he took their friendship more seriously than she did? They had only been friends for two weeks- one and a half, since he'd hardly seen her for half of this week. What if-

Realising he was letting himself fall into a familiar, self-pitying rut he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. No, she had been busy. When he next got the chance to talk to her, he was sure she'd tell him everything. He shifted, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

The Captain had promised that they'd leave the island after they'd saved Lynn's friends. He'd known it would have to happen eventually but somehow he never thought it really would. Where would they leave to? he wondered. It'd have to be near the ocean, he reasoned, or else how could they reach there by ship? Yep, he nodded to himself, eyes closed and mind already drifting, definitely near the ocean. He couldn't imagine living anywhere else. And yet, even as the thought passed, there was a memory of being somewhere very cold but feeling warm. The land had no definition; like all the colour had drained out of his surroundings. It was the strangest sight. But it felt familiar. He reached out, other dreams already making the memory fade and white, powdery rain fell into his hand.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Why can't we tell him? Please? He looks so miserable these days-"

"Look, Princess, you know as well as I do how much it breaks my heart to see the lad suffer. But orders are orders an' the Cap'n dusn' think it's a good idea to tell him jus' yet. Just be patient."

Barty held the lantern aloft and pulled aside the curtain while Lynn stepped into the Captain's room. Tom may have been fast asleep in bed but most of the other men were already gathered here. Lynn and Barty quickly took their seats before turning their attention to the man at the head of the table.

"-we've managed to make just enough explosive to go around," Radmer was saying. "Give us a few more days and we'll have enough to sink the whole ruddy island."

"Good, good," said the Captain, nodding his head. "And the problem of the mines?"

"Well, assuming that we do find them-" said Radmer, throwing a side-glance over at Lynn which the Captain ignored. "-it shouldn't be a problem getting in. Like I said, we got plenny o' firepower now." The man shrugged and sat back in his seat.

The Captain looked up suddenly. "How far have you gotten with the map?"

She pulled out a sheaf of paper and passed it along to the head of the table where Marcus spread them out to get a better look. "I went there again earlier today with Cecco," she said, pointing out the route she had recently inked. "We're getting closer: we found the mines." Many of the men eagerly sat forward to get a better look at the map- Radmer with a little more reluctance than the others.

They were almost there. She had been going out almost every day for the past week, ever since Marcus had told her everything he knew, trying to map a clear route to the Prince's lair. It had been difficult, on many occasions they had done nothing but wander around in circles all day in the dark and it was only by Cecco's unfathomable ability to retrace their steps that they managed to return at all, but they were almost there. Getting back up to the waterfall had been easy but beyond the small clearing she and the girls had been led to, surrounding all sides, was thick, black, impenetrable forest. Everything invariably looked the same. Day by day they followed different paths, marking off the ones that led nowhere. But with a few days of wandering under her belt she began to notice the faint trails, the thick log she had tripped over on her first time to the falls. Her eyes grew sharper, most accustomed to the gloom. They began making progress.

She remembered the absolute joy she had felt when they finally saw the mines. There was only a little ways to the Prince's tree, she was sure of it. If they stuck close enough to the mines and if they could just find the downhill path, then they'd find the tree in no time.

"Cecco thinks that if it's as close as I remember it to be then we should have the map finished within a few days." She smiled at the man Cecco, who was a bit gruff but otherwise harmless for all his outwardly intimidating appearance.

"Excellent. Excellent," said the Captain fervently, eyes roaming over every inch of the crude map hungrily. "Well done, Lynn!" He said, finally tearing his eyes away. "At this rate we shall have the boys free in no time." He smiled widely, the first she had seen in a long time. The men clapped Cecco on the back heartily.

_Free, _thought Lynn, as she made her way back to her room.

She agreed that the best thing at the moment would be to get as far away from the island as possible. Hopefully Radmer and his little group would have destroyed enough of the mines that it would be a while before the Prince needed anyone to work in them- that was the plan anyway. She suspected that the Captain had other specific plans regarding the Prince himself but she had not been told anything on the subject; her primary objective had been making sure they actually knew _where_ the place was.

But would they ever get _home_? Back to her beautiful home in London where, if not for the people whom she now knew could hardly be regarded as friends at all, then for her parents whom she did miss terribly. She sighed, knowing that the warm, honey-tinted memories of home were about to flood her and she hugged herself as she lay down on her straw mattress.

At least she would get to see John and Michael again, she thought, yawning. Perhaps with them closer things wouldn't seem so bad, even if they never did return home.

And somewhere, lying next to rows and rows of sleeping boys, a hopeful John Darling thought the same thing.

* * *

**A/N:** Another prelude, I'm sorry. But before I forget, I **MUST** thank **Uplifted** for her review- you all have her to thank for reminding me this story still existed after I finally got done with all my exams. Honestly. Thanks also to yuuram2fangirl, legitforreal, Romance and Musicals(good to see you're still following!), ally, livinforthemusic, Ori (who made me smile) and Jane Firefly Kaulitz for their reviews on the last chapter and the continuing, unending and still totally unfathomable support the rest of you give me.

I leave you with the promise of awesome-ness to come ;p


	18. Dance with the Devil I

The Prince sat up in his sea of silver furs, sighing restlessly. His men, two stationed at the foot of his bed shifted slightly towards him in response but he dismissed them.

_Leave, _he ordered soundlessly.

The two bowed their heads simultaneously and left, joining the boy stationed just outside the door.

In the seclusion of his room- though already he could feel the unseen eyes preying on him and as they had without fail these past few days- he removed the mask which clung to him like a second skin, sucking greedily at his face. He turned the glitering face-piece in his hands and ran his fingertips over the smooth, cool facets of the black gems encrusting it. It sparkled and glinted in the dim lighting, alluring yet repulsive.

He set it down on his lap and passed a hand over his face. He felt...tired. It was a feeling most foreign to him. For many years now he had no need to sustain his physical needs for he no longer had any; freed from the need to eat, drink, rest, or feel if he did not wish to. And yet... if that were true, why was he feeling this? What did he feel so tired? This need to sleep when his body did not require it. The hollowness he felt which had always been there, yet why did it bother him so, now more than ever before? Why did it seem to be _growing_?

_"I gave you your heart's desire in exchange for mine."_

The Prince's face remained blank as the words swirled around him and echoed inside his head. He knew this; he had signed the contract. He paid no heed to the voice for he was well accustomed to it, knowing she did not expect a reply. Instead he began delving deep into his memories, further than he had done in a long time. Those many years ago when his heart had shattered, his emotions and grief too raw and too painful to endure. He'd been standing at the edge of an abyss of sorrow but he was too weak to jump by himself. He had wanted it to end. And he did not have anything or anyone he cared about enough to stop him...

He had heard the tales; of the Faerie Queen, the Mistress of Darkness and countless other names she went by. She who possessed incredible power; power to control, to maim, and to steal the hearts and minds of her victims...

It had taken him many days to reach the heart of her domain; her palace. His mind was made up, his resolve unfaltering, his determination unparalleled by any before him. The darkness had not frightened him when he entered the shadowy depths of her forested kingdom. Nor did her presence, nightmarish and ominous though it was.

_'You do not fear me, human child?' _She swirled out of the gloom appearing as insubstantial as smoke. He could hear her voice but her lips did not move. Almost instantly he was drawn to her eyes; completely black, with no whites to surround her dilated pupils, framed by thick lashes and a pale, heart-shaped face. She was unnerving yet strangely beautiful.

He wetted his lips before he spoke; a small pink tongue running over pale lips before he enunciated the words he had rehearsed so often inside his head. "I have come to make a deal with you, oh Queen of Fae."For she did not give, before first claiming something in return.

_'And what do you have that could possibly be of value to me?' _she asked, coiling herself around him, drowning him in the bottomless depths of her eyes, suffocating him with her presence. But he was steadfast when he spoke:

"My soul."

To that the Queen had smiled- a smile like knives. '_Your soul?' _She said, staring down at him. '_You are naive, young human;_ _releasing you from the burden of your soul may lessen your pain but are you willing to pay the price?' _His brows furrowed. Had he not shown his seriousness- his willingness to do whatever it took? He had offered his soul! Was that not payment enough?-

'_Are you willing to forfeit your life?'_

He hesitated. It was absurd and childish of him but he had not realised- He had never thought that- His soul maybe, but- his life...? Was he ready to die? He stared blankly into the distance, ignoring the Queen's presence, blocking her out from his mind- an admirable feat in itself.

He thought to himself, analysing the situation. Aside from the question of his time left on this Earth, he also knew he would not be able to leave the Queen's presence unscathed in one form or other. Why not leave on terms that satisfied his own? Besides, was losing one's soul that different to losing one's life? He had been quite willing to give one up so why not the other?

But then the voices he had so deftly blocked out returned to haunt him and he heard his mother's voice whispering in his head; words of love, words telling him to be strong, to be strong for her...But she was not here anymore. Now it only served as a reminder of his purpose here. Early on he had found he could not bring himself to end his life- no matter how many times he was sure his grief was great enough. He was a coward. Nor could he return to the village where no one would help him with his deed and where every path, every palm tree and every flower reminded him of what he had lost. His life there could only be lived in pain. And if that was the case then it was not worth living at all. He had made his decision.

"Yes," he said, raising his blue eyes to the witch's own. "That is what I desire." But his voice was not as strong as his resolve, and it shook with the force of his mortal body preparing for death. Again the Queen smiled, as though taking delight in his suffering.

_'So be it.' _

She spun herself around him, cocooning him in darkness, turning him blind. He tensed, preparing himself for his final moments, not expecting them to come so soon. It was then that the cold calculating facade finally slipped. He was scared. Scared like he hadn't let himself feel since his mother's-

_'_Would it be painful? Would it be slow and agonizing? Or over before he knew it?

And then it hit him.

He was going to die.

He was going to die-

He was going to be reunited with his parents.

With his mother.

_'I'm coming,_' he thought. And the thought filled him with such peace and tranquility that he found he was not scared at all. '_I'm coming. Wait for me._' And then there was a sound, a sound like the shattering of glass and the splitting of worlds, more jarring and ugly than anything he'd ever heard.

It was the sound of the witch's laughter.

_'Silly human,' _she said, uncoiling herself, returning his sight to him. '_What use would a single human soul be to me?' _

His happiness drained out of him in a flood and the pain that replaced it, and the new pain of having this last chance of happiness taken so callously away from him, was unbearable. He sank to his knees, clutching his face as the tears streamed down them. His hopes had been buoyed up so high that in its absence she had left a maelstrom of emotions, uncontrollable and irrepressible. His sadness knew no bounds. He had failed.

_'But,' _whispered the Queen, sending shivers of repulsion across his neck even as he grieved, '_there may be something you can offer instead.' _She locked eyes with him. '_Fulfill this request of mine and I will erase your pain forever. I can make your emotions as remote as a distant star- but it will be at a price.'_

"Anything," he croaked. Anything would be better than the torture gripping him now.

_'You will serve me.' _

And so, wearing a mask of his own tears, he agreed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

His transformation had not been easy. The task of hollowing a soul was excruciating at the very least. He had lain, for one full moon cycle, on a slab of cool marble, hands and feet bound, writhing as the Queen recited the incantation that would strip him of his humanity: he would not survive it on his own. So as part of the spell she would infuse in him a miniscule administration of her own flesh; a droplet of her own blood. In doing so, not only would he survive, but he would also become forever her servant bonded in traditions as ancient as time; a contract sealed with blood.

The process began with the birth of the new moon and ended when it was fully waxed. It would be a pitiful lie to say he had not doubted the wisdom of his actions at the time but the contract had been signed and there was no escape now. Once the incantation was complete he would be alive but empty; completely void of feeling; a living corpse. He would still have a soul, but only just.

It was a searing pain, racing violently through his veins, ripping them to shreds. But worse than the pain consuming his limbs was the pain that started just below his ribcage in the centre of his abdomen with a strange echoing tangent into his mind. It felt like knives slashing away at his subconscious, severing him into a thousand tiny pieces till he felt so raw he was sure there was nothing left of him but lumps of meat.

Then came the pain that was not physical; the pain that prevailed his mind. This was by far the worst. It over-rid and pain in his limbs till he could taste the salty tears that flowed into his mouth. For the final part of the process entailed his re-living of all the memories he so wished to forget. He cried till he thought he would be drowned by his own tears. It was showing him what he was going to lose; the good and the bad. He did not care. He wanted to be rid of it all.

Through the haze of all this pain he could hear the Queen casting her spell, her words unintelligible to him but they flowed together in song as she snipped at his emotions, at his soul, one by one, carving them away. The images vivid only moments before faded as he heard the _snip _of the spell (or was it a pair of scissors?) as she slashed at his soul and detached his memories and emotions for good. He found himself inexplicably reaching for them as they drifted away but he was bound to the stone and bound to the contract, so he could not move. Finally, when he thought he could endure no more, he felt the last, sinewy tangent of his soul that bound him to his humanity, clinging for dear life. _Just one more, _he thought. _One more and this torture will end. _But the blow did not come. Quivering as it was the Queen let the thread remain and he felt himself being released from the spell. It was like rising from the bottom of a lake, he could finally breathe again.

He blacked out.

He was weak, deathly so. But the Queen nursed him back to health, not quite healing the jagged edges of his soul but dulling the emptiness it marked, smoothing the edges so that it made a clean hole. It was a sickening feeling. He lay feverish and sweaty for days, his ill-health fueled by the nightmarish images filling his mind. The void was so...consuming. It was inhumane, what he had done. He retched and heaved for weeks, his body going into regular convulsions. No human body was strong enough to withstand such abuse of its soul. So the Queen infused more of her magic within him, to make him stronger. She watched over him constantly and eventually he began to recover. The hollowness which had been unendurable at first dulled until he hardly noticed it at all.

On the day he finally re-awoke, he found himself clothed in the same silken, midnight attire as the Queen herself. A sign of his servitude. Finally, he had recovered enough to serve his purpose. The only purpose in his new life: to serve her. To serve his Queen.

His first task was to return to the village; he was to bring to her a child. He left in the dead of night and was returned within the hour. The routine continued- how long, he could not tell for he did not feel time's pull as he used to. He did not feel anything as he plucked child after sleeping child from their cots, was unmoved as he handed them over, crying, to his Queen and was uncaring as to what became of them.

He had no emotions but his loyalty to the Queen to cloud his judgement. But once, upon the return of another successful retrieval, a strange impulse overtook him.

"What do you do with them, my Queen?" he asked, out of the blue. His voice was still monotonous but the Queen, well used to hearing it, could detect the small note of curiosity in it. She turned to him, shocked. "Forgive me, my Queen." He said, just as quickly. In truth, he had shocked himself. The impulse to ask a question had come with the strangest, fleeting sensation; a tingling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost a dull ache. The Queen, oblivious to the changing of his internal landscape, rapidly smoothed her features into their usual haughty mien as she took in his regained expressionless countenance and dispassionate tone of voice.

'_Do not worry, child,_' she said, calmly turning her back to him. '_They are here to serve me._'

They were servants._ Like him_, he thought. But it seemed the Queen did not agree.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On the sixth anniversary of his changing- a date only noticed for the events that transpired later on- the Queen had descended to his chamber. '_A gift, my child,' _she breathed, unbidden rapture in her voice. She pressed the gift to his throat and tied the string behind his neck. '_I give you this gift; a vestige of my power.' _He observed his reflection in the mirror; the small, tear-shaped jewel resting on his collar bone. '_In time you will learn to use it,_' she whispered, nestling a kiss into his hair. The stone felt strangely warm on his skin, or perhaps he was merely very cold. Emotionally, he was indifferent. He bowed.

"Thank you, my Queen."

She looked at him hungrily. There was no curiosity within his pale blue eyes now but neither was there understanding. '_Do you not realise what I have bestowed upon you?_' She asked, knowing the answer already. Peder shook his head, eyes still vacant. She smiled and again it was like the promise of the torturing of a thousand souls. '_You have become dear to me, strange, human child._' Her eyes glittered, blacker than ever as she turned at the door.

The Queen had named him her son.

* * *

**A/N: **This is by no means finished (helluva lot left) and I'm sorry it took so long, but every time I opened it up I just had to add something more.

[EDIT:2/1/11] Fixed some inconsistencies I found.


	19. Dance with the Devil II

**A/N: Could I possibly persuade you to re-read the beginning/ending of the last chapter? No major changes but I tweaked it a lil ;)**

* * *

Time passed. He remained at the Queen's castle; with the jewel's power and the amount of magic she had infused into him he no longer needed to feed nor sleep as often as he used to. That she had taken such a liking to him had been unexpected to say the least. In those days he had not cared- that had been the essence of his contract. He gained indifference to the world and his existence while she attained a contractually-bonded servant who could not and would not betray her. He had no ties of loyalty except to her; it was for this reason that she had left the final strand of his emotions uncut.

In reality, the Queen had done what any employer, confident in their ability to maintain control over their charges would do: she armed him with skills that would make him a more efficient, more useful slave. It was not out of the softening of her non-existent heart. He had no sense of morality, no ethics, no conscience; he was the perfect errand boy for his twisted, evil mistress.

Every day, without fail, he would be summoned to the Queen's side and taught how to hone the powers she had given him. With the Queen's help he had gained access to a number of her tricks; he had learned to disappear as she could, fly without the need for wings, sense the life surrounding him without seeing, and most recently, torture. He could take down an opponent without touching them, immobilizing them with a single glance and a desire to cause them pain.

But with his newly bestowed birthright came new duties to fulfill. Aside from his increased workload, once he had been properly trained, he was also forced to make dangerous ventures into far-reaching lands. To snatch children as well as other material comforts when the people of his village finally left the isle. The lands were different each time and soon he became adept at the art of sneaking into villages, unopened windows, heavily guarded bedrooms... He had never returned empty-handed.

It would be unfair to say that he did not care that what he was doing was wrong. How can you if you have no inkling of what 'wrong' is? He had his memories, fast fading though they were, but there was no emotion attached to them: if he had stolen in the past, the feeling of guilt had been removed from the memory. He was as emotionally untouched as freshly fallen snow. The only emotion he had left in him was loyalty, and it was pledged to the only being he had really been in contact with since his transformation: his Queen. Like all his actions, he performed this one with the same blank, indifference. If it was ordered of him, he would obey; he could not do otherwise.

There had been others before him, he learned. Each having signed one form of contract or another, each bound in duty to the Queen. But none before him had been given power beyond their menial rank as servant boys. He was different, he was assured. He was unique.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Peder was bored. He was well-groomed and well-tended and apart from the Queen herself, he had had no real contact with anyone. He had not been permitted to see the slave children and he had had no desire to play host to them besides. The Queen, having noticed his restless state, could ignore it no longer. '_Amuse yourself in the forest,_' she commanded. '_I have no use for you presently._'

"As you wish, my Queen." He bowed and vanished in a wisp of black smoke.

The forest was as dark and as uninviting as the Queen herself. Horrid creatures- the likes of which would have torn him limb from limb had it not been for his amulet protection and the scent of the Queen's blood coursing through his veins- called it home and prowled it's perimeters; the Queen's personal guard and an extension of her power. He wandered the ground aimlessly, flitting easily over the fallen logs and thorns that was the floor of this forest. He roamed for as long as he liked, knowing the Queen would be able to call him back whenever she wished. Swinging gracefully from a high upper branch, he landed on a solid piece of ground.

He found his gaze drawn upwards upon a very singular tree. He walked around it's base, investigating. Hidden, in a thicket of spines and thorns, standing as part of the forest yet still standing alone was a tree that seemed to _thrum. _The bark was black and charred-looking. It's lines were entirely curves; there was not a single straight line throughout. It's branches were bare and twisted, reaching, grabbing, edging closer to the nearby trees as though meaning to tear them up by the roots. It was by far not the largest tree in the forest but it's ominous presence more than made up for it. He placed a hand on its gnarled trunk and his eyes widened slightly. He could feel...life within this tree. Pulsing through it's bark almost as though it were a living, sentient being. He shuddered as he felt it respond to his touch. It almost felt as though the tree was leaning into his hand and the _thrum_ seemed to intensify. The tree groaned ever so slightly as it's stiffened bark strived to draw nearer. He could hear some of the branches snap on the other side. Trees did not do that.

He removed his hand and stared as the tree resumed it's original position, groaning once more as it did. He lifted his hand and allowed it hover over the bark. Again, he could feel the _thrum _of something, deep within it's trunk. He frowned, the barest puckering of his brow. He rubbed his hand in a gentle circle over the uneven surface of the bark and allowed a trickle of his newfound power to seep through his fingertips. The tree suddenly began to vibrate. Violently. It was _purring_. Slowly he lessened the trickle till it was no more and he felt the plant settle beneath his hand. How peculiar.

Suddenly he reared back, his senses on high alert. There was someone in the forest. Something that did not _belong_. Moving silently, he raced towards the foreign source and stopped just out of their line of sight. It was a small group of men. It was an achievement in itself that they had not been attacked or eaten yet. Interesting. Choosing to remain unseen, the Prince watched the small group not far from where they had set up camp.

"We're never going to find them, are we?" said one, his back to the Prince.

"We should have turned back when he had the chance," said another.

"Yeah, I doubt we'll ever find our way out of this hell hole alive." The men fell silent while the Prince watched on. Who were they looking for?

"What's all this?" said another man suddenly, striding out of a small tent. "We have gotten further than any man before us in our village! I know we can find them, I-"

"Enough, Hansor," said one man gruffly, raising a hand for silence. "You know as well as we do that this was a fool's errand. It is best we turn back before we get ourselves killed. If we are lucky, the Chief may have even thought to leave us a boat."

"One more day," pleaded Hansor. He knew that name; he had heard that name before. "Give me one more day to find the children." At this all the men shuddered, shoulders slumping further. Peder knew he knew the name, but memories are often inextricably tied to the emotions felt at the time, and in his present emotionless condition, his memories were very hard to dig up indeed. Moving swiftly, he circled the group of men till he could see the hopeful speaker's face.

The man's face shifted and blurred as he tried to place it when suddenly the features smoothed into place. It was his old friend, Hansor Doterson. His old friend from the village. A strange feeling attacked the void just below his chest and he grimaced. But before he could process the sensation a numbing cold, like a winter morning's chill, blew across his mind and he knew the Queen was on her way. He did not think, only acted.

"Go," he ordered, stepping out of his hiding place, his face distorted with pain. "You will not find what you seek." The men began picking up their weapons, screaming at him in rage. Fools. Did they not realise the danger they were in? He stopped them in their tracks with a glance and they crumbled. "Go," he ordered once more.

"Stop!" shouted Hansor, horrified. "Stop this! Peder!" But it was too late.

_'What have you found, my child?'_ asked the Queen, swamping him with her presence, rifling through his mind and recent memories. At her touch Peder regained control of himself, felt the tear in his soul revert to normal, and his face smoothed into one completely void of expression.

_'How amusing...'_

Finally separating herself from him she solidified her shadowy form and showed herself to the men. She stroked Peder's face as though unaware of her surroundings. The men were now staggering to their feet, their eyes trained on his Queen. Slowly she raised her pale lids and looked at them each in turn. He did not know what she was whispering to them in their heads but slowly their faces sagged and he knew she had them. Then her gaze landed on Hansor who was standing as immobile as the rest though she had cast no freezing spell on their feet. Peder watched from the corner of his eye as the man's features went slack, his posture limp and unresisting. He could not explain why he did it but he turned his head fractionally and caught the man's eye. He did not do it intentionally but the momentary eye contact broke whatever delicate spell the Queen had been weaving and the man turned and fled as though she chased after him.

The Queen turned on him at once, eyes pitch black with no whites showing; a sure sign she was furious. _'Why did you interfere?' _she hissed. The Prince did his best to be unaffected but every fibre of his being was screaming at him to cower.

He lowered his gaze. "I did not do so intentionally."

She forcefully thrust her fingers through his mind and he sank to his knees, his eyes streaming with pain. She searched, looking for signs of deliberate deceit and insubordination but found none. Dragging them through his mind with a feeling akin to slicing flesh, she retracted her taloned fingers with agonizing slowness. She stroked the side of his face even as he panted, hands fisted in the dirt. _'So you didn't,' _she said tenderly. He trembled, still not able to look up; he had not felt such agony since his transformation. _'Rise,'_ ordered the Queen, suddenly cold. _'You have much work to do.'_

_-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
_

She worked him tirelessly for the next few weeks- months- years? He could not tell. Seeing his old friend's face and his own youthful face in comparison made him fully realise how differently time passed for him now. He was put to work doing menial chores at her beck and call, supervising other servants to clear certain areas of the forest and was stripped of any freedoms he once had. He did not mind but he could feel his mind regressing till his actions and responses were automatic.

After an age of monotony the Queen decided he had served his punishment. _'Come with me, child.'_ He followed obediently. She took him deep into the forest, not far from where he had found what he now thought of as 'his' tree. He had not been to this particular area of the forest since the incident with the men (whom he did not know the outcomes of, incidentally). She led them to a clearing in the forest not unlike the one he had recently supervised elsewhere, except there was a deep cavernous hole carved into the ground at its centre. From here he could see the crude scaffolding that had been erected leading down into the depths of what he would soon discover to be mine shafts. He saw children's faces peering at him through the gloom. She took him on a tour of the mines showing him the gems they were filled with, ones similar to the one hanging around his neck. The gems, she explained, were the source of his powers; they amplified what magic the Queen had given him and although she was already hugely powerful, the gems amplified her powers as well. The amplifying properties waned, however, and so she was in want of a constant supply.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He had new orders: he was to take over maintenance of the mines, as well as its workers, and to dig out new ones as she commanded. He was still required to make frequent trips outside the kingdom but this was now more to his benefit; his workforce needed constant replenishing. As a matter of convenience the Queen allowed him to choose a place of lodging closer to the mines. She smiled when he showed her his tree and hollowed it out for him there and then, even though the agony that permeated the air while she did it made him feel sick. He was also given his own small band of child-servants that obeyed his command almost as unquestionably as he did the Queen's. His new found independence was welcomed as it not only gave him new occupation but meant that the Queen now trusted him more than before.

It was difficult work.

His workforce was young and inexperienced and they tired quickly. They were not contractually bound so he could not command them the way he did his own servants. They needed food and shelter and other insignificant details like a place to bathe, facilities to wash their clothes and sometimes restoration sessions when they grew too ill to work. These sessions were severely draining on his strength, so on one particularly strenuous day, he sent a child to the Queen. When his servant returned with the child still as frail as before it was the Queen herself who accompanied them. She had a look of delight he had not seen in many years. Peder did not age in the same way as those without the gem's power did, but that is not to say he did not age.

"My Queen," he said, quickly sinking to one knee. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

_'Rise, my Prince,' _she replied, still laughing through her hand. It was slightly unnerving. _'You should train your servant not to lie,'_ she said once she had calmed down, settling herself onto the wooden throne he had fashioned for himself. _'He told me you had sent him for me to heal the creature.' _Peder looked at the child who was curled up on the floor, too weak to support himself.

"I did."

The Queen stopped smiling. _'You are not in jest.' _She looked at him more closely, eyes narrowing at the sight of his paler than usual face. '_You have been squandering my powers, boy,' _she said icily, lips unmoving. She looked furious. But after almost a hundred years of servitude Peder had learned that if he spoke the truth quickly, he would be spared her wrath.

"My pallor is only a result of my greater number of servants you have provided, my Queen," he said. "It takes more of my strength to make them obey my orders satisfactorily." The Queen sat back but she still looked unimpressed. "As for the creature-" he glanced at the shivering child. "He was valuable in the mines; reviving him is easier than retrieving another." The Prince looked his Queen in the eye, face blank, stance relaxed; sky blue meeting coal. After a long beat of silence she finally spoke, her words clipped.

_'If you find yourself incapable of controlling your servants then return them to me.' _

After she left, the Prince ordered for the child to be taken into one of his rooms and to be fed and clothed adequately until his strength had returned. This had happened before and sometimes, when he did not recover his strength soon enough, the child would die. When the Queen's appetite for the gems grew especially insatiable and the workforce were required to work longer shifts, they would weaken even more quickly.

She was displeased by the situation- no doubt she thought he was redeveloping his ability to feel- but could not dispute his argument. Peder disagreed with her completely; he was only implementing what he thought was the most practical solution. When he said as much to her one night she again forced a search of his mind. It was just as painful as the last but it satisfied her curiosities enough.

He had not been untruthful about the strength his servants sapped out of him either, but he did find a clever solution to the problem; he made them wear small gems on their person as the Queen had done with him. It would not give them any powers since he had not given them any blood, but it would strengthen the seal he had placed on them, making them easier to control. Often the gem was worn in the form of a small earring.

He spent more and more time at his own small castle, overseeing his subjects, ruling his miniature kingdom as he saw fit. The tree continued to grow, despite being hollowed out from within, and it seemed to be as fond of him as ever. He rarely saw the Queen these days and often found his time wholly devoted to the expansion of the mines. He was fairly certain of the gem's true source of power but he had no moral conscience and so the revelation did not bother him.

When the Queen eventually found out about his servant's using her precious gems she was livid. She threatened to sacrifice him on the spot. But she could not find fault with his solution once he had explained it to her. This did not mean she was any happier with it. Each time he used his power in a way the Queen had not before, she would ruthlessly invade his mind, searching and testing his loyalties. He had never yet failed a test and on the next anniversary of his transformation she magnanimously gifted him with more of her blood.

He soon found out why.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had been a long time since he had last been summoned to the Queen's castle so it came as a surprise when she ordered him to her presence. She regarded him cooly from her elevated throne. He kneeled on the floor in front of her with his head bowed in submission. He waited patiently for her to speak but did not expect to hear what he did.

_'I am leaving, child.'_

_

* * *

_**A/N: **Happy New Year every one =]. I know this chapter is awfully wordy but everything makes sense now, doesn't it? X3. To be clear, biologically, the Prince is still (mostly) human- he just eats less, sleeps less, and ages reaaaally sloooowly. Oh, and does anyone like the Queen? XP


	20. The Truth Will Out

**A/N:** Submitted: 1/2/11. I've bin battling to post this chapter for so long coz I always seem to add something more. Longest chapter to date FTW X)

* * *

_'I am leaving, child.' _

The Prince did not react. _'Can I depend on you to keep things running smoothly here?' _It was more of a threat than a question but one they both knew the Prince could fulfill.

"Of course, my Queen."

_'My Sight will never leave you,' _she promised. With her blood swirling in his veins she could see through his eyes whenever she wished. His head dipped lower.

"When will you return?" he asked.

_'I will return when I please. You are to continue your work.' _The Prince kept his head low. Her felt rather than saw her stand up. Her manservant, one of her oldest and almost the same age as he, stepped forwards as well. _'My Sight will never leave you,' _she repeated and then she was gone.

Peder stood up in the now empty throne room. He could feel the distance as the Queen slowly moved further and further away. His mind felt strangely clear; he could still feel vestiges of her presence lurking behind his eyes and the back of his head but it felt as though he now had room for his own thoughts. He did not know exactly where she was and to his interest, found he did not particularly care. It was like the snowstorm of his mind had finally settled.

...

* * *

Tom sat with a crude knife in his hand peeling the mountain of potatoes and other root vegetables by his feet. Lynn had disappeared again but for once it wasn't her he was thinking about. He picked up a another vegetable and turned it over in his hands, his brows furrowed in thought, his mouth unsmiling.

He was not talking to Lynn anymore. It had happened a few days prior when he'd finally managed to get Lynn on her own and sat her down to talk.

"You've bin' pretty busy these days," he'd began.

"Yeah," she replied, brushing imaginary dirt off her pant leg. "The Captain's had me run some errands is all." She smiled hesitantly.

"Err, yeah, I noticed." Neither of them could look the other in the eye. "Look, I know somethin' is goin' on-" Lynn looked up sharply. "-can't you just tell me what it is? We're friends, right?" She nodded silently, the corners of her mouth and eyes turned down. "Look," he said quickly, hoping it would make things easier for her. "I don' know the exac' plan but I know it has to do with some mines or somethin'. Are we gonna storm the demon's castle? Is Radmer gonna blow something up? What's going on?" He asked, so hopeful and proud at his information gathering abilities that Lynn had to bite her lip to keep from blurting everything out to him there and then. "Lynn? You will tell me what's goin' on, r-right?" He said, suddenly uncertain after she still remained quiet.

"I can't." Her head shook 'no' as she watched his face fall.

"But I could help! I know that I'm not as strong as some of the other men but I could be a scout or something! C'mon Lynn! That's not fair!" She closed her eyes; she couldn't bear the betrayed look on his face. He ranted and raved for a while, letting out all of his frustration while she sat there and took it, hating herself and her promised silence. "You don't trust me," he said after he'd calmed down, strangely quiet. Her eyes flew open; his face was stony but she could tell he was deeply hurt. "None of you do. I thought we were friends."

She opened her mouth, aghast. "No! Tom, it isn't like that! Honest! It's the-"

But he'd already stood up and stormed away. "Tom!" she cried running after him. But he was faster and nimbler than her and soon he was out of the cave and out of sight.

He hadn't spoken to her since. He did feel a twinge of guilt when he returned much later to the cave, seeing her red-rimmed eyes but then Cecco joined her and the guilt mysteriously vanished.

The rest of the crew didn't need to avoid him anymore because he avoided them. He was angry and frustrated and hurt that his suspicions were confirmed and there was nothing he could do about it. He followed orders without fuss and often returned to his room immediately after dinner, sometimes opting to eat by himself in the kitchen. Tom didn't see why he should bother to sit with any of them since they didn't have anything to say to him anyway. His sudden change in demeanor didn't go unnoticed- Tom was usually the bright spark of the group- but it didn't change anything either. No one suddenly came up to him saying, 'well, Tom, we see you were ready to know all along. We're sorry we didn't tell you.' Lynn didn't try to approach him either. Well, after a while she did, but when he again pressed her for details she would not give he stopped talking to her as well. He had done everything he could to prove himself to them and still nothing had changed. So he minded his own business, doing his jobs as quickly and efficiently as he could in the lingering hope they would see how hard he was trying- that and the fact he wanted them to feel a bit of what he had been feeling all this time. So much time alone had left Tom with great stretches- sometimes hours on end- to think. And he'd come to an interesting conclusion:

He was riddled with holes.

Nothing physically of course, but in his mind, his memory. He was thinking about that look Lynn used to give him before they stopped talking, the looks that tried to tell him something, like he knew the answer even if he just tried to think about it. So he thought about it.

He remembered when he'd first joined the crew. He'd woken up staring into Barty's concerned face asking him what he was doing passed out. He had learned the best way to remove a grass stain and which woods were best for boat-making. Rob had set his first broken bone and Aesop had told him just about every story he'd ever heard. He had learnt how to handle a sword by the Cap'n himself and even sat in on a few of Radmer's discussion about explosives even though he didn't understand any of it. But he could not remember a single detail about his life before that. It worried him slightly that he'd never realised this before.

Sometimes when he was doing the most menial chores flashes of memory would come back to him. At times the memories felt warm and comforting; the sight of a yellow kitchen, a small bed and wooden toy car and once, the memory of a cow. He assumed they were memories because he never would have been able to make up such detailed settings by himself, seeing as how foreign they were to him.

Other times the memories were more menacing, cold and terrifying- like a bad dream. Once, he'd accidentally broken a rotten egg in his fist and as the smell and wave of nostalgia hit him he saw flashes of glinting metal and heard the sound of echoey clangs. It didn't make any sense to him but it felt eerily familiar nonetheless. It made him shiver all overjust thinking about it.

He had always had recurring dreams of running through pitch darkness, tasting the ashen dirt in his mouth as he fell, feeling the thorns cut into his hands and feet as he ran. He was always running from something but he could never see what. Barty told him they were just normal nightmares, fears of getting lost in the nearby forest. But after his realisation he wondered if they were a little too vivid to be just that.

It was as if he had finally woken up after a long sleep and now his mind was trying to let him know everything at the same time. As a result the onslaught of images were disjointed; confusing. If only he could understand it all. It was coming to him slowly, painfully slowly, but he'd get it in the end. He had devoted most of his spare time in trying to remember but he found that the more he forced them out the less he recalled. So he did his tasks and let the memories come by themselves.

...

* * *

The island was louder after the Queen left.

The Prince noticed it on his return trips, especially when he opted to walk back to the tree to relieve the sensation in his legs from traveling weightless for so long. The animals didn't lunge directly at him but he could feel them prowling. He'd needed to enlist more security while he was away to keep things in check, draining yet more of his power and making the ache below his chest more pronounced.

In the beginning things carried on much the same as when the Queen was still on the island. There were one or two setbacks when Peder brought back older children, almost fully grown men, to the island to see whether they would work better. They did, but their tendency to escape made them unreliable. After that particular incident Peder made sure the forest grew thicker and denser around the mines and if that didn't stall any potential getaways then the Queen's remaining pets would get them. He had a special link with the forest, he discovered. Whether that had more to do with the Queen's power or his own he did not know for sure but it spoke to him, in a way. He could see as far as the edge of the forest, the limitation of his range. If he concentrated, he could sense exactly what was going on anywhere within the dark and twisted tangles of his home. The Queen, he suspected, could probably cover the entire island without any difficulty.

It was entirely by chance that he discovered the difference between his male and female workers. One of the main observable differences was that female workers usually lasted longer. He suspected they had a larger reservoir of life or maybe were more determined to survive than the males. But other than that, once, when he had been keeping one of the females back for healing, he heard a sound coming out of her room. It was a soft thrum, gentle vibrations of the air. It was a simple tune with only a few notes but he could feel it reverberate through him. It was strange. He stepped forwards to hear it more clearly but as soon as she caught sight of him the girl stopped. When he commanded her to continue the tune, although sounding vaguely the same, it changed; it became sharper and more shrill, forced. It would not do. Returning her to work, the Prince sat in his throne room and thought. What had changed about her to make the tune so distorted the second time? He recalled her face after she had seen him; the way her eyebrows went up and the way the corners of her mouth began to quiver. Fear? She was scared?

The next time a female came in sick he retained her for a longer period of time to see if the same thing would happen. But after a week of silence he had to admit defeat; the girl did not sing at all- whether she could see him or not. Then he tried with an ill male and yielded the same results. He tried a few more times and found that the probability of musical inclination was higher in females than males but there was still no definitive characteristic that would indicate which ones would or wouldn't.

He wondered if he was missing something more. He had not noticed anything physiologically different or strange about the first girl compared to the other two so perhaps it was a subjective thing. He unearthed ancient memories of his childhood- what he could still recall anyway and tried to see if, so far, his theory fit. He did remember the women of his village singing more than the men, although he was certain they often sang too though not as nicely. Subjective then.

It became almost like a hobby, trying to find out which ones would and which ones wouldn't. The Queen had not checked up on him since her departure and he was growing bored. Singing, it was called. He did not waste his energy in scanning through the ones already in the mines so he tried to find it in the new ones he brought back. The boys he would send down immediately having learnt the hard way that even of the boys did sing they usually weren't very good at it, but the girls he retained. He typically gave them a day or two to calm down before he sent for them again. Sometimes they could not get over their fear quickly enough but sometimes he got lucky. The lucky ones stayed.

He could not fully explain why he was so intent on finding new...amusements. At first it had been because he was tired of the tedium of being mine keeper but once, during one particularly talented girl's stay, he felt something shift inside him. So he made her stop. It was the queerest feeling and while his face remained passive he could feel a stretching, like his old wound was being pulled at, deep inside. It was not entirely unpleasant but it not exactly comfortable either. Once he was certain he was not damaged in any way he allowed the girl to continue.

...

* * *

Lynn sat moved around the kitchen helping Barty with dinner just to have something to do with her hands. She had hoped to be able to speak with Tom, to apologize properly, but he was incredibly difficult to pin down when he wanted to be. She sighed a sigh that was not all for herself and chopped what reminded her of peeled carrots into the stew.

The plan had come to a standstill. They had the map, they had the explosives, the men had never been more ready, but they couldn't go ahead with the plan. She suspected that Marcus had anticipated the problem all along but preferred to wait and see what would happen- maybe he even thought he'd have come up with a solution by now. Even Rob couldn't see a fool-proof way around it.

The crew were split into two minds: the more reckless ones had said that they should go ahead with the plan and that saving some lives was better than none- children could be dying while they dallied; the second, more cautious group (whom she was supporting) refused to take such thoughtless action saying that they would not knowingly put people in harm- the Prince had done enough of that already.

The main problem was one of the main sleeping chambers was located near the entrances- better ventilation, Rob explained- and so a lot of boys could get hurt if they just went ahead. Lynn wasn't willing to take that risk. They could not figure out how to create a distraction big enough to get the guards away from the entrances as well as the tree, get the trapped boys out without having a ton of rock dropping down on half of them so that the distraction could be made, all at the same time. It was a predicament. They needed the boom so that they could create an opening large enough to get all the boys out in one go (and to destroy most of the mines so the Prince couldn't recruit more children after they'd left) because the window of opportunity would not stay open for long. The place was too well-guarded for them to have weakened the structure gradually and besides there wasn't enough time left.

There were four mines in total but only two of them were in operation; one had collapsed and another evacuated due to the fumes. Her argument was that they were insanely lucky to have had the number of exits reduced by half so it would be foolish to cut down the number of survivors by that figure as well. She tasted the soup and added some salt. The Prince hadn't left yet which meant they couldn't act even if they wanted to i.e. they had time more to plan. They would figure something out that didn't involve boys dying, she was sure.

She ladled the soup into the largest serving dish and trundled it to the kitchen doorway.

"Barty!" she called. "Do you mind grabbing the plates? I've got the soup."

Tom still hadn't spoken to her or made an appearance all day but she thought it was far time he knew. Bother the Captain, she thought as the memory of Tom's betrayed face swam to the surface of her mind as it so often did. She didn't have to tell him his whole grisly past but that didn't mean she couldn't tell Tom what they were planning to do. It wasn't as though Tom was part of the bomb squad anyway and he might have some good suggestions for their little problem. It'd make her feel better if nothing else. After dinner, she promised herself. She owed it to him to tell him that much at least.

...

* * *

The Prince was getting better at understanding them. In the beginning when they cried or their faces twisted with some emotion he had become incensed which seemed to only worsen the situation. Now he knew the best way to deal with them was to wait it out and, most importantly, not use force to do it. They usually calmed themselves down. They also seemed to respond positively if he gave them a trinket. Nothing of use or value; a dress, a shiny thing for their hair, items he had gathered on his journeys. But none of them lasted for very long.

He had noticed, though unexpected, that the girls in his 'special' service did not live for as long as the ones in the mines generally did. They only lasted for about two to three years before he had to replace them. At first he could not understand it. They were not being physically exerted, they were being well-fed and clothed and he had not noticed any severe change in mental state as the miners usually experienced. But then he noticed the changes within himself; he felt stronger after the visits and his pallor was not as pronounced. He had not yet understood how it was possible but it was the only plausible explanation he could come up with. Plus, it made sense that the changes he was feeling in his metaphysical wound were not brought about by mere vibrations of the air but by something stronger. Perhaps it was one of the reasons why the Queen had agreed to keep _him_-

He was draining them of their life- faster than the gems did down in the mines did anyway.

Coupled with the Queen's innate magical abilities, the life-force of hundreds of children brimming with the precious substance concentrated into a single back crystal, made the magnitude of obtainable power beyond comprehension. He had figured out the mines' secret several years back; even in his everlasting state he knew normal children did not have such short lifespans. It was not that difficult to figure out. He knew his servants were exceptions because they possessed gems, so were being fed the energy instead of having it sucked out of them.

At first, his newfound 'ability' did not disturb him. But he soon noticed that the changes he was undergoing as a result of being in contact with such an unadulterated form of life energy were not only physical, for he had begun to feel again_. _He had detested the sensation to begin with, limiting the girls' visits as much as he could for his benefit as well as theirs. The rip in his soul had a tendency to want to heal itself while in their company, despite the heavy presence of the Queen's blood resisting the change. He felt longs periods of aching, as though the cut was stretching and new flesh- soul- life 'stuff', was trying to scab over it. It made him physically sick. But it also improved his moods.

For limited periods at a time, during the visits when the girls would either sing or talk to him, he could- to an extent- enjoy himself. It was a respite from the constant numbness. This all disappeared as soon as the girl had left and he was left with his servants, the gems and the rip in his soul that reopened a little more now that there was nothing to combat the black blood inside him that was doing it. He couldn't fully heal his soul and have the power of the gems at the same time. It was a maddening process of two steps forwards and one step back.

It worked for a while, the battle of releasing the girls sometimes overcoming his own selfish desires and other times it didn't. But sooner than he expected, the girls' visits became routine. And as with any routine, the novelty quickly wore off. He found himself less and less satisfied emotionally and the internal tug of war he constantly had to undergo, of torture and repair, to achieve the same satisfaction did not seem worth the effort. He could not see the point in needlessly depleting his workforce when they served no clear benefit above ground. A sickness that had suddenly spread through the lower chambers of the mines was the only thing stopping from him sending the girls back down; there would be no point in releasing them if they only died two days later. That and the fact his attention was divided due to the several outings he'd had to make to replenish his waning workforce.

On his last trip, he had returned with only four boys and a girl, a surprisingly low haul but he had over exerting himself recently and had not had the strength to prolong his trip. During the last retrieval which included the girl, he had not seen her face clearly. The room had been dark and her face covered mostly by cloth and wayward strands of her hair. He had been too preoccupied to give her more than a passing glance. She was just young enough to be of use, that was all he needed to know. He had held the girl back in his castle out of force of habit. He was not honestly thinking of keeping her, or any of the others, above ground any longer but perhaps her physical presence would help remedy his weakened condition.

_'Bring her to me,'_ he ordered his servants silently. They marched her into his throne room.

Peder looked up and for the second time in his life, felt his soul rip cleanly in two.

...

* * *

Tom cleared out the slop bucket, feeding some tidbits to a few friendly seagulls which strayed near the beach. He'd managed to avoid Lynn all day but he had to admit he'd only taken slop duty in a fit of desperation when he saw her approaching him. He still didn't want to talk to her and if he was still sulking a little then he had every right to be. He climbed up the staircase carved out into the face of the cliff and back up into the main entrance of the cave. He would have usually taken the back entrance but he couldn't be bothered to walk to the shipyard and risk breaking his neck on the algae-covered steps that led directly to the kitchen- in the dark. In a way it was lucky that he did.

"How many do you think we'll see again?" said one of the men. There were two of them sitting and blowing smoke rings into the night sky. Tom had walked up quietly enough that they hadn't heard him approaching yet. He crouched, inching out of sight, and listened. Just because he had other things on his mind didn't mean that Tom was any less willing to know what what going on.

The other man, a bloke named Jarrem, sighed. "I dunno, Toddy. Hard to say, ain't it?" He had a front tooth missing, making him whistle slightly when he spoke. "S'all luck who lives and who dun't down there."

_The mines? _wondered Tom silently.

"The old man gets on my nerves," said Toddy suddenly. Aesop had been strangely 'encouraging' to the men all dinner. It didn't make any sense to Tom but he supposed that was because he still didn't know the full picture.

"Ol' Aesop?"

"Yeah, him. I mean, it's right nice of him to care an' all but he don't know what it's really like to be there. Sure he had that one of showdown with the devil but that don' compare with the hell we had to go through every stinkin' day we spent down there-" Toddy breathed out heavily through his nose. "It just gets to me when I see 'im cautionin' the Cap'n and slowing him down when I know what it's like to be there with your memories eatin' you up inside and the misery and the feeling like you may as well lay down and die for the good it'll do ya and the lads-"

"I know, Tod, I bin there," cut in Jarrem soothingly. "We all have- 'cept Aesop. But I'm sure you ain't saying you _want_ him to know what it was like," he laughed.

"Well maybe I am," grumbled Toddy. He left before the two men began joking and bickering amongst themselves.

Tom slid further down the staircase and leaned heavily against the jagged face of the cliff. His eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted. '-_when I know what it's like to be there with your memories eatin you up inside..._'

He knew what that was like too.

He felt winded, like he'd just been hit by a speeding ship. He knew what it felt like to have every happy memory torment you; the image of sunlight streaming through his mother's kitchen on a Sunday morning while he lifted his pickaxe above his head in pitch darkness; the vision of his sister running next to him in a field of grass while he shuffled forwards to get his meal; the feel of his mother's lips on his forehead kissing him goodnight while he he shivered on his pallet of straw wishing he were home. Memory after memory came crashing down on him, barraging into his mind with the force of a raging bull. Tears pricked at his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. The nighttime wind whipped at his hair and face. His mouth still hung open allowing the salty droplets to trickle in and coat his tongue. It was only the sound of his own ragged breaths in his ears that made him realize he was crying.

"Tom?"

He looked up with haunted eyes, the images behind his eyes mingling with the star-sprinkled night sky and the concerned figure in front of him, making him question whether what he was seeing was real.

"Tom! What happened?"

He got up and bolted, his feet moving automatically while his mind remained numb. He ran down the steps faster than she could follow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lynn stumbled down the steps as fast as she could but she could still not keep up with Tom's frenzied pace. "Tom!" she called as she reached the base of the cliff. "Tom!" But all she heard in reply was the echo of her own cry across the waves and the seagulls' mocking shriek as she ran around in circles in the gathering dusk.

Determined to find him she skirted the base of the cliff, moving slowly so as to not slip in the gloom and the rising tide that was spraying her with every cautious step. She walked up the steps that let to the natural shipyard and called out for him once more. "Tom!" But again she was met with silence. "Tom, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Tom!" she cried desperately, already feeling the sizable lump shift in her throat. The look he had on his face when she found him, that absolutely heart-breaking look, like some one had just killed him inside. She'd seen him grabbing the slop bucket and decided to follow. On her way out she passed two of the men arguing loudly about Aesop among other things. Then she'd seen Tom hiding behind the rock face. He must have heard them discussing the plan. The picture of his stricken face flashed clearly in her mind.

She had to find him and make things right. To think that her deception of him could have caused him so much pain was not a thought that sat well with her. She scoured all the caves she could think of, all the tunnels and entrances Tom himself had taken her, even the tiny cubby-hole one that could not comfortably fit either of them. Hours later she still could not find him. Eventually, tear-stained and tired she returned defeated to the kitchen with a quick word to Barty asking him to let her know when Tom came back, even if it was the middle of the night. She lay face down on her quickly dampening pallet and fought against sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tom sat in the shadowy alcove that made up the ship's brig. It was nowhere Barty would have ever thought of looking so he often went there when he wanted to escape his duties for a little while (or to annoy Barty which had the same effect) or when he wanted some time to think. He'd been coming there a lot recently. This time though, his feet carried him without instruction and when he finally looked up out of the shelter of his arms to see where he was, the ship's brig was where he found himself.

Leaning his head back against the curved wall of the ship he sat and let the memories wash over him, breathing deeply to try calm the shuddering of his breast. It was not easy having a whale-load of information and feelings dumped on you. His past made more sense now but it was still a lot to take in. After a while of thinking that maybe if he got used to the memories' sting it would be less painful he realised that simply _not_ thinking about it was a much easier option. He closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing. Every now and then a new image would burst into his mind and he would shudder or convulse but eventually he calmed his heart rate and sat perfectly still. He waited to see if he had any unturned memories left but when nothing came to him for about two hours or more he was satisfied that he was done. He did not even want to think about delving into his emotions just yet. It was more than he could handle for one night.

He got up shakily, chafing his arms as the damp evening chill settled into his clothes. Barty was going to kill him for skipping out on dish duty yet again but the man was probably asleep by now. He tripped up the steps and into the dimly lit kitchen.

"Lynn's been wanting to talk to yer." Barty looked up and paused, his drink hanging in mid-air. "I- You alrigh', son?"

He had wanted to just pass out and sleep but Tom could never ignore Barty like that. Rob or even the Cap'n, maybe. But not Barty. He sat down heavily as though an obelisk was weighed around his shoulders. He didn't feel like crying anymore, just very, very tired.

"I remember," he said hoarsely, his voice rough from crying. "I remember... everything." He waited for the older man to say something but nothing came. He looked away. "I- I just need some time to... to clear my head," he said, ignoring the fact that he'd effectively failed what he'd been trying to do all evening.

Barty eyed him wordlessly before he nodded and let the boy pass. He placed and large hand on his shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. They had all been through the same before; Tom would survive this.

"You'll see Lynn later on then?" asked Barty quietly just as they boy was about to leave. He hated to crowd the lad but she had come in looking so heart-broken after he'd run off that he couldn't ignore her request to relay the message. Tom only nodded dumbly and moved on.

Barty sighed and took another sip of his drink. Rob had told them to tell him gradually, that it was better to get it over with sooner rather than later. But Barty couldn't bear to see the boy suffer and when he saw how obliviously happy he was while the rest of the men, even after they'd been out for so long, struggled with the memories formed there and the memories of the ones left behind. He'd developed a severe soft spot for the lad.

It was bound to happen eventually, what with all the talk of ambush and secret plans, the boy was bound to hear something that triggered them. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shook his head. Aye, it woulda happened, but he still remembered the rawness of it all and he could not help but reiterate the wish that Tom would be an exception. Only time could fully heal those wounds.

* * *

**A/N: **I love/hate this chapter :( I wanted to add more stuff to it but I gave up trying to make it fit right. Big things be comin', me hearties!

Replies to reviews (will be removed after I put up the next chappie):

TheLadyPanda: First, I love you for taking the time to review almost every chapter in one go. Touched my heart that did :'). I can't answer all of your questions (you're insight is making me feel like a bad writer- so many holes! ) but I can confirm that all your character associations are correct. I don't like putting ages on them because people tend to stereotype once they find out and I want them to be based more on characters/personalities rather than the strings that come attached with their ages. Though there _are_ clues to the Prince's mental and biological age (very different btw) if you look close enough ;p. Hopefully most of your other questions will be answered by the time I'm done with this old thing!

Thanks also to legitforreal, Jane Firefly Kaulitz, Romance and Musicals, _Moa_, Runs With Wolves - Shawnee, _Ori_, and yuuram2fangirl who play great roles in my motivation department X3


	21. Prelude to War

Submitted: 6/2/11. **A/N**: I must be mad to finish another one so quickly.

* * *

"Tom!" shouted Lynn, pushing herself upright on the bed.

She blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the gloom. "Oh. That's right," she said aloud. "I didn't find him last night." She lowered herself back down then rolled over and sat up. She rubbed her eyes and yawned widely. Men's voices and the clatter of dishes floated into her room; strange, she didn't usually oversleep. Shaking her head to rid it of its sleepiness she got up and washed her face at the small basin. She combed her fingers through her hair and brushed her teeth with a small wooden toothbrush made of a soft wood Rob had given her. She tied her hair up into a neat ponytail, put on her tunic and observed herself in the basin of water. Time to find Tom.

When she finally entered the main chamber of the cave she found that breakfast was indeed in full swing. She found a seat and served herself a plate of eggs, all the while keeping an eye out for Tom. She didn't see him at first only because the huddle of men surrounding him obscured him from view. She was seated too far away to talk to him directly and she didn't want to cause a scene by calling his name out aloud. Only after the men had settled down and started tucking into their own meals did she catch sight of his face. Her heart fell. He was staring with a slight frown into his plate, pushing the food around with his fork listlessly. He looked so serious; so sad- so unlike the carefree Tom she used to know.

She glanced across the table to try catch his eye, trying to tell him that she wanted to talk to him. Barty had told her that Tom agreed to speak to her, that he wasn't angry with her, but that she should give him space. He'd told her what happened.

Finally, after a multitude of covert glances, one of the men beside Tom nudged him and gestured in her direction with a fork. Tom listened with a small frown on his face then looked directly at her across the table. She blushed and looked down. Timidly, she raised her head and found that he was still looking at her. She gestured her head towards the entrance of the cave and saw him nod. He pushed his plate forwards and stood up. She hurried to do the same and quickly followed him out.

By the time she'd gotten out she just made it in time to see his head disappearing around the edge of the cliff, much like it had when they first met. The memory of it earned her a quick smile. She hurried down the steps after him, neither of them speaking a word until they had reached the bottom. Tom stopped with his back to her and picked up a few smooth pebbles. Lynn landed the last step and stood not far from him. She had wanted to talk to him all night and now she didn't know what to say.

"Barty said you wanted to speak to me," said Tom, still facing out towards the sea, pebbles skipping effortlessly under his expert hand.

"Yes," she said. "I looked for you for ages yesterday but I couldn't find you. What time did you come back?" He shrugged noncommittally. She sighed. "Are you still mad at me?"

"'Course not." She didn't like the flatness of his voice. She didn't like the way she couldn't see what he was thinking or feeling. She didn't like how it sounded like he was just telling her what she wanted to hear.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

He did turn around then, slowly. He looked down at the smoothed rocks still in his hands. She could tell straight away that he hadn't slept at all. He looked so tired. There was something different about his eyes too; they looked older, more mature. Like he had seen and understood more- more than perhaps he would have liked. The sight tugged at her heart.

"Barty told me what happened," she said, barely above a whisper. "Are you... alright?"

She saw him shake his head, almost to himself. "No one could remember all tha' and be alright, Lynn." He sounded broken. "I'm not angry at you," he said more normally, looking up to face her properly this time, as though to add truth to his words by the gesture. But the look in his blue eyes betrayed him.

"Yes you are," she countered. "If you weren't you wouldn't be treating me like a stranger."

"Like how you were treating me, then?" he said, eyes flaring and she saw some of his old self returning to him.

She wasn't trying to provoke him on purpose but this silent, reserved Tom- this Tom who wouldn't even look at her when he spoke, was beginning to get to her. She knew that he had been through horrible things, that he had probably spent all night recounting them, that the memories would no doubt keep him up for countless nights more; she had seen the effect it had had on the other men. She knew that it was important that he was given time to heal, but remembering that what mattered was the here and now was important too. She held his gaze.

"The Captain wouldn't let me tell you."

"But I coulda helped!" he said, his anger finally leaking out as he raised his hands in annoyance. The pebbles made little splashes in the sand. "It was so stupid for you all to try protect me like that! If you jus' told me what was goin' on, do you think I woulda put my own comfor' before helping out?"

"You wouldn't have," she agreed. "That was why the Captain didn't want to tell you. He said that if you didn't have to remember then he wouldn't make you." She saw him hide a grimace. "It's not like you wouldn't be helping out, Tom. We weren't going to just let you sit around doing nothing," she said gently with a weak attempt at making a joke.

"Yeah, well maybe now I can do something more," he said more quietly. He lifted his head again. "I'm not mad at you, Lynn. Honest. I'm just... frustrated you all figured I'd rather be left outta the plan than hafta face my memories." He rubbed the back of his neck in a very Tom-like way. "Guess I oughta feel flattered." She didn't say anything as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply and reopened them. "Listen, the Cap'n said he wanted to speak to me. I should probably go."

"Alright," she said, sighing quietly. "Bye, Tom."

He left without another word and Lynn followed the sight his back moving quickly up the steps before sitting down on the sand with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her shoulders slumped. She couldn't seem to do anything right by Tom these days.

...

* * *

If he had been listening closely enough, if his heart hadn't been beating loud enough to echo throughout the room, then the Prince was sure he'd have been able to hear the sound his soul made when he saw the girl's face. It would be a ripping sound; like the sound of silk being torn.

He could not believe his eyes. It was impossible.

"What is your name?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Ll…Lynn, sir," she stammered. "Gwendolyn Darling."

_Gwendolyn, _he repeated mentally as his heartbeat slowed, _Gwendolyn_. Of course it would be impossible. His eyes roamed over her, making note of the details instantly. The hair and eyes were same, but this girl was fairer- and younger. Of course it was not her. Of course it wasn't. How could it have been? He had been foolish to even consider-

He had dismissed her almost immediately.

He remained in his throne room for a long time afterwards, his face cradled in one hand as he thought furiously. How foolish it was of him to even consider it. But the likeness was so strong that even he could be forgiven for making that mistake. He still did not enjoy the feeling that face resurrected. His heart had long since slowed but he could still feel the agony the sheer sight of her face had brought him. Oh how he hated being so vulnerable; the damned cut had reopened with just a glance. How pathetic.

He grimaced involuntarily. He hadn't felt it so fully open in a long time. It brought with it a sort of gaping numbness, as though there were an actual physical hole blowing through him. He would have to send for one of the girls soon to help heal it.

Again the new one's face appeared in his mind. He had been harsher with her than he would have usually been but that was mainly out of shock. Still, he would have to see her one more time if not to just to put his unsettled mind at ease.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He watched her closely as she entered. She was wearing the red dress; it surprised him that it actually fit her properly. She began talking without invitation and he took the opportunity to complete the previous night's observation. His eyes behind his mask were drawn to her face and again he was jilted by the uncanny similarities he found there; the curve of her cheek; the swathe of eyelashes that trailed across her cheekbones; the mass of dark brown hair that tumbled across her bare shoulders. There were slight differences in the colouring of her skin and the way this girl held herself- almost too straight- but the likeness was still choking. He could not separate the yearning to memorise the details from the desire to pick out a flaw in the resemblance. He tore his gaze away from her and tried to concentrate instead on the words she was speaking. It sounded like a story of some sort, one he was not entirely familiar with. Her voice as she spoke grew more animated, the tremor leaving it momentarily.

"This tale is new to me," he said once she had finished, gaze lowered, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Though I do not understand all the characters' actions, it was pleasant. Perhaps you would explain them." These meetings always made him more gregarious than he was used to.

"If you wish, sire." She looked up and again the striking similarity of her green eyes was enough to make him retreat into his shell of cold indifference.

"Perhaps another time." His eyes did not leave her until she had exited the room and her eyes were wide and frightened as she caught him watching her. It left a twinge in his cut; that particular expression on so familiar a face felt distinctly unpleasant. He closed his eyes as the door shut.

His behaviour was intolerable. To think he could be so affected by a mere look-alike! Even so, he could not understand _why_ it was affecting him so. The chance of there being one amongst hundreds was not unlikely; he should have expected this day to come. The similarities in such an unadulterated form had just thrown him off guard, he reassured himself. Yet how could he be expected to act any different when, every time the girl walked into the room, it was like seeing his mother alive again?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He would put some distance between them, he decided. He waited a day, the various duties of the mines and the rest of the island, allowing him to draw his attention away from his castle and it's new inhabitant. But that night's first encounter had still left considerable damage so he was bound to call for another to repair it. The blonde one, he decided. Her voice was strong and she could sing reasonably well. She would do. A few minutes in her presence, however, and already his mind would not let him enjoy the serenade. It clamoured for the new one, his soul refusing to heal if it were any but her. He sighed imperceptibly and ordered the blonde one to stop.

"Bring the new one," he commanded. A flash of some emotion he could not be bothered to decipher flashed across the girl's face and then it was gone. She bowed and left.

He waited, restless. It was unbecoming for a man of his power to be so affected by a single face- by a single memory. He could not allow himself to be so easily affected and yet the anticipation of seeing that face again had him visibly agitated. If the Queen found out how miserably he was behaving she would likely return and remove the distraction herself. The thought brought with it a much needed cold shower of reality to his senses.

He was frigidity itself when the girl entered the room. She was confused and scared; he could hear it in the timbre of her voice. She did not understand why she had been called for especially. It was true that he had never bestowed the honor on anyone prior to her. Luckily, his memory had supplied him with the perfect ruse.

"You had agreed to explain the perplexing actions of the characters in your story. Do you not recall?" he asked. She was relieved.

"Which character would you like to know about first?" she asked, smiling. He stilled as he heard the inaudible rip again. He cursed silently. They even smiled the same, he thought. Not identically of course; he noted that this girl's smile was almost perfectly symmetrical, whilst the smile he remembered was higher on the left. He used this dissimilarity to regain his composure and his face smoothed itself out. He quickly and systematically picked out differences between the girl before him and the face he remembered; this one had no deep-set lines of laughter cut into her creases of her eyes; she did not have the dimple dug into her left cheek; her eyebrows were thinner and more defined; her voice was of a higher pitch. All these discrepancies helped to ease his troubled mind. His heart slowed to its almost immeasurable beat and his soul returned to its ritual of ruin and repair. All this he accomplished in the short time it took her to adjust her position in her seat. She was not comfortable in her dress.

There was still an even bigger difference this time, he realised, as she remained silent, eyes downcast. He was not sure how to proceed.

Usually, when he sent for a girl, they would sing or dance or play one of the instruments he had brought back and he would sit, passive, while his hidden powers slowly sapped the life out of the creature before him. He had never actively partaken in the matter before. But this time was different; she was here because he had asked her to be. If he did not continue to ask questions then he would be left looking foolish- and that was a state completely unacceptable by a prince such as he. So he delved into his memory, which had improved vastly since being in the Queen's employment, and pulled out various questions with ease.

The girl, completely oblivious to his thoughts, sat and answered the questions, sometimes stumbling other times not. It intrigued him to discover that he did not actually know the answers to the questions he was asking; they were all questions of the heart and therefore he could never anticipate what her answers would be. It was a topic he was honestly ignorant about and the answers fascinated him more than he would ever openly admit. What shocked him even more was that he began participating in the conversation; he was actually sharing his opinion with the small human girl seated at his feet.

He had never shared his opinion with anyone before; no one had ever asked for it. The Queen had had no use for it, his servants did not have insight he would have appreciated and he certainly would never have dallied with his workforce. That only left his tree and it could not speak even if it _had _had something it would have liked to share. It was strangely refreshing. He found himself unconsciously going over the conversation several times in his mind after she left.

The girl- her name was Gwendolyn, he recalled- would be severely drained after such overexposure to him (the same girl twice in a row was unheard of), even if she did not show it. He did not want to lose this one yet so when he next called for a girl, he called for one of the others, just something to satiate him momentarily. He found himself oddly...unsatisfied with the little black-haired girl's visit. He attempted to converse (still a very foreign mode action for him) but it did not yield the same results as it had with the Gwendolyn girl; this one merely supplied him with the answers he already knew. It was strange how he could not recall the names of these other girls- he could have, easily, if he had wanted- but somehow he had never taken the trouble to.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was displeased that he had been fooled into thinking this one was any different. He had called for Gwendolyn again but she had changed. He could not understand why she refused to communicate; why she told her stories without warmth or inflection. What was the point in that? It was hardly as though he was benefiting from the stories themselves.

"Enough," he said, finally pushed to the limit of his patience. "I shall send for another."

She was immediately contrite. But her way of apology took him by surprise, as did her reasons. She had 'opened up' to him, he believed the term was, instead of the usual groveling and remedy by way of song that he was used to. That in itself was unusual. However, his fascination soon faded into anger as he learned of the real reasons behind her absence of mind.

"-So for them you would be willing to forsake your duties to me? To remain in their favour you, would risk falling out of mine?" he said coldly.

He had never experienced such outright disloyalty before. Never in any one his servants nor workforce had he seen such blatant betrayal of allegiance; she seemed more concerned with the opinions of these 'friends' of hers than she did him. In the past it probably would not have been possible but his soul was not the completely emotionless landscape it had once been; he was outraged. And, like his Queen, he made no effort to hide his displeasure.

She was clearly terrified. She begged for his forgiveness; she promised to be faithful. He was distrustful of her but granted her one more chance. Any further misconduct, however, and she would be sent down to the mines indefinitely. She did not disappoint.

She regaled him with another of her 'fairy-tales' as she called them this time infusing so much of herself that the mere telling of the tale brought tears to her eyes. That alone granted her her forgiveness; clearly there was still much he could learn from this one. Though she had explained to him the emotions and feelings that formed the basis characters' actions, he could still not comprehend them. One running theme in particular gave him trouble: love. He could not remember 'love'. He could not understand how people would risk death, destruction and even their sight for such triviality. But then there was the memory of his sacrifice...

The truth remained that he himself had done something very similar, only on a much larger scale. A part of him knew that pain had been an underlying factor, and that pain had ridden on the loss of his mother. But any experience aside from physical pain had been removed from him; this 'pain' he recalled was just a statement, a reminder. It did not really _mean_ anything to him. He reasoned he would not have enjoyed being in pain, but all pain- like physical wounds- faded after a time, did they not? Then what had made that emotional pain so unbearable that he would have turned to the Queen? Why had he... The unanswered question left him feeling conflicted and confused. He had always done things in the way that was most profitable or that made most sense; the action that led him to his current being made no sense what so ever. Perhaps that was why he had done it. Perhaps the irrationality of those feelings had pushed him to his limit...

He decided not to dwell on the matter. Love, he decided, was a sickness of the mind. It was nothing but simple insanity. That out of the way, he found himself able to enjoy their continued conversations. There was a brief period of uncertainty that he felt after Gwendolyn's initial waver of loyalty but after that she seemed wholly and completely devoted to him when in his presence. This sort of focused _attention_ was also new to the Prince and he found he strangely enjoyed it. She seemed honestly interested in his opinions and would weigh his words carefully before coming up with a response of her own. As he'd said, she did not tell him merely what he wanted to hear (mostly because the question was not posed in such a way that he knew what he wanted to hear in the first place) and thus kept him greatly entertained.

The Prince could feel his natural curiosity becoming stronger day by day, fighting for supremacy in his blood, till eventually it cemented its place in his mind and soul. Then the questions never stopped. She grew to be less afraid of sharing her opinion, knowing that he did not mind them, even if they conflicted with his own. Instead he found it gratifying, the way she offered new points of view, new experiences for him to absorb; her own adventures; tales of her previous life, so different to the one she was being exposed to currently; the quirks of her society.

That was another thing that had been difficult to grasp. He could not understand how a body of people, completely separate from oneself, could dictate another's actions and thoughts. Was it magic? he'd asked. To which Lynn (even he had taken to thinking of her by her preferred diminutive since she so rarely addressed herself otherwise) had laughed and responded in the negative. It was their perceptions, she'd said, they were important so their views mattered. He could accept this to a point, comparing it to how the Queen's views probably influenced his own. The idea was distasteful- at least, the way Lynn described it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was being greedy. He knew it and yet he could not stop himself. He had thought of calling for another, to give Lynn (the name still felt strange in his mind) a chance to recover, but he knew none of the others' presence would be half as enjoyable. It had been almost three months. He was being selfish. He was being irrational; if he over-used her she would die before she had time to recover. But he couldn't help himself. Every time he returned from one of his longer journeys it was only her presence he desired. Only she would be able to relieve his weariness.

He could see it, even if she was not consciously aware of the effect he had on her strength, and by the end of their meetings she would often be close to exhaustion. As the meetings went on, the niggling sensation of guilt due to her deteriorating strength, grew. He could have supplemented her life force with some of his own but it would be temporary, only sustaining her till their next meeting wherein he would involuntarily take it back. It also ran the risk of the Queen sensing the abnormality of his fluctuating life force and returning, which was a perilous position to be in. He had not been able to sense the Queen for sometime and could not recall the last time she had checked up on him. But he had no doubt that if she returned to find him in the way he was currently that she would be furious; he would be lucky to survive her wrath at all.

His soul had healed far more than even he had anticipated. Far more than the fleeting glimpses of its reparation the Queen had observed herself, and she would not be happy with him for allowing it at all. He knew he had no chance against her if it came down to that but he found he was willing to take the chance. Now that he had seen the possibilities he was unwilling to return to the dreary, unfeeling days he used to suffer. Maybe if the Queen re-shredded his soul he would be more open to the proposition, but until then he was determined to hold onto what he had.

But he had become distracted again (that was another thing he'd noticed was happening more often), the question was, what to do about Lynn? He knew, somewhere in his subconscious, that he _could _just go out and retrieve another girl to replace her but he didn't want to have to start all over again. He knew Lynn, knew what her gestures and facial expressions meant; what she was trying to say even if she did not say it (something he would never before have been able to do before). And to an extent, he felt, she knew the same of him. All this knowledge had been built up over time and he knew that if he brought a new one in, he would have to restart the process all over again. She might not even be suited. She may have an intolerable voice. He might find her annoying, even. The rip in his soul may re-open in the time he took to readjust, demolishing all the progress he had made.

Besides, Lynn was his.

He put aside this train of thought and focused on what he should do. He knew what he _could_ do but was dancing around the prospect because he was not sure of the effects it would have; it could either end very well or end instantly. He was not the type to pace but if he were he would have worn a groove in the floor by the time he was finished thinking. There were too many uncertainties-

But as he watched Lynn almost collapse during their last visit, his mind was made up. He would have to take the risk.

...

* * *

Lynn hurried to the meeting room. She had been helping Barty load all of the supplies onto the ship. Tom had been mysteriously absent all day but with their chilly meeting that morning she hadn't been in too much of a hurry to bump into him again so soon. He needed his space.

"Good, now that we are all here, we can begin," said the Captain looking at her. Lynn sank breathlessly into her seat and tried not to let her embarrassment show; she didn't mean to oversleep, her nap had just felt so good. "First, Barty. How are the supplies coming along?"

"Just finished loadin' the last barrel," said Barty. "We're ready t'sail whenever. I thought it'd be bett'r to be set, rather than hafta scurry aroun' at the last minute; I can bring back supplies if we need 'em."

"Good, good," said Marcus. "Radmer? Starky?"

"S'plosives just need to be fused. Shouldn't take more'n a day."

"Hmm," said the Captain, stroking his chin. He seemed distracted for some reason. "Alright. Well, we don't have much time left so lets get them done as soon as possible."

"Aye aye, Cap'n."

Lynn sat and watched the proceedings in silence. She had played most of her role so far so she really only sat in on these meetings so she knew what was going on.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n," began one of the men earnestly. "but are we gonna hear this new plan o' yers? Ah know you gots one; I can see it on yer face." It would have been rude if anyone else had said it but Farrow was known for his open honesty and slight naivety.

The Captain smiled. "Indeed I do, Farrow." He stood up and spread his hands on the table infront of him, leaning down conspiratorially. "What would you say if I told you gents I had found the solution to our little problem?" The men leaned in a little closer; everyone knew the current situation of the mines, there was no need for elaboration. "What would you say if I told you we could move by _tomorrow night_?"

"-assuming the Demon leaves," reminded Rob.

The men ignored him. "What is it, Cap'n?" "Have you found another entrance!" "Where is it!" they clamoured.

"No, lads," smiled Marcus. "Even better." The men's faces were a mixture of confusion and incomprehension. The captain reached behind him. "Say hello... to our secret weapon."

"Tom?" said Lynn incredulously. The room turned to face her. "But how can Tom be our secret weapon?" She had not noticed him at all, sitting in the Captain's shadow. His face was still in the dark so she could not read the expression there.

"Tom was the one who came up with it," said Marcus proudly, pulling the boy's chair forwards to sit at his left side. He spoke to the room at large. "As you all know, the only thing standing in our way was how to keep all the boys safe; we can't go in and blast the mine to pieces but can't _not_ either. But what if we could somehow get all the boys away from the blast site in time? What if there was a way to make sure they'd be evacuated into the secondary sleeping chamber before the timer went off?" He was smiling widely now but some of them men still looked confused. "Tom could be that 'way'," he explained. "We could send him in, fully aware of the plan and marshall the boys to safety. The demon would never know and we could carry it out right under his nose! We could be off the island by the end of the week!" The men jumped to their feet, cheering loudly. The few who were near enough clapped Tom soundly on the back, praising him for coming up with such an ingenious solution and being a man.

"But wouldn't that mean that Tom would have to go back in the mines?" asked Lynn amidst the cheers, her forehead furrowing in confusion. She wasn't trying to be dumb but-

"Of course," said Marcus, leaning back and smiling. "It's a good plan; Tom's the only one who's young enough to still have a shot at getting into the mines- we could hardly send you. And since he suggested the plan he has no problems with it. Do you, Tom?" he asked, turning to the quiet youth beside him who shook his head.

"'Course not. The faster we get 'em lads outta there, the better."

"Hear, hear!" cried the men, even more jubilant.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

There was an impromptu party in celebration of Tom, the plan and plain good fortune. Everyone was merry; the men danced and clapped, Cecco broke out his fiddle and Barty even sang one or two tunes. Marcus was looking happier and less stressed than she'd ever seen him. The only one who did not seem to be celebrating, however, was her.

"Cheer up, Princess," said Rob, sitting down next to her. "The lad will be fine. Marcus wouldn't put him in any delib'rate danger. " Of course Rob would be able to pick up on her anxiety.

"I can't help it, Rob," she said, staring into the fire. "I know Marcus wouldn't knowingly put him in harm's way but what if something goes wrong? What if-" she stopped, reluctant to even voice her fears aloud.

"He'll be fine," he repeated. "He needs to do this." Lynn looked up, startled, but Rob only stood up and went to join Marcus across the room. She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. She needed to speak to Tom.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Come on in, Lynn."

"How did you know it was me?" she asked timidly, pushing the curtains away to enter.

Tom sat up and shrugged. "The men never knock."

She took a tentative seat at the foot of his bed. "Why did you leave early? The party was meant for you," she said with a small smile.

"Couldn' handle anymore of Barty's yowling," he said jokingly. They laughed. When the silence between them finally became unbearable she decided to come straight out with it. She took a deep breath.

"I don't want you to go into the mines."

"So I noticed."

She looked up at his hard tone. "Don't be like that Tom, I'm just worried about you. I've heard the things that happen down there, what if-"

"Yeah, an' I've bin' there," he said shortly. "I know what I'm getting myself into."

"No you don't!" She said fiercely, annoyed by his attitude. "I didn't want to tell you this, but I heard Radmer during his little discussions; they don't know for sure which walls will fall. The structure is so old and he hasn't had the chance to analyse it properly of course so there's no way he knows exactly what will happen when those sticks of dynamite go off. There's no way _anybody_ knows what will happen! They're all just making educated guesses!" Her voice grew more and more agitated.

"Don't you think I know tha'?" he said, eyes narrowed. "The Cap'n told me _everything. _An' that includes Radmer's 'little discussions'. I know what I'm in for, Lynn an' there's no way you can persuade me otherwise."

She stared at him with a new kind of wonder. "Y-you knew?" He nodded. "And you're still going?"

He looked at her, surprised. "Of course I am. Even if I get crushed, it'd still save a whole lot more lives than if I stayed."

She threw her hands up in frustration and stood up. "What is it with you men and self sacrifice? It doesn't have to be like this! Why are you all so ready to lose your lives when we still have time to figure something else out!"

"We have no more time," he said cuttingly, standing up as well. There was a decisiveness in his voice she had never heard before."You know that it's only a matter of days before the demon makes his move an' if we don't move before then, all our plannin' would have bin for nought."

"A few days is enough to come up with something better," she said through gritted teeth.

"Not it's not." He said. "And you know it. It's been almost a month an' not even Rob could come up with somethin' decent. This is the best chance we've got."

"Why are you so insistent on dying?" she hissed, her hands fisted.

He stared at her then turned away. "You have no idea what it's like," he said, so quietly she almost missed it. "Believe me, even being crushed by a coupla rocks would be better than what those lads are sufferin'."

Her face blanched as she gasped. "Tom!"

"I'm not going there to die," he sighed, turning around to face her. "It's a rescue mission, remember? Can't rescue no one if I'm dead." She didn't find his joke funny and neither did he. They stared each other down. "I need to do this."

That made her pause. "Rob told me," she said more calmly. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I just do. Look, I'll be fine, Radmer or not-" he said, cutting off her protests. "-I know my way around those caves. I'll get every last one o' those boys out; even John and little Michael." She bit her lip. She could not deny that her brothers had been on her mind almost constantly since the planning had begun. She sighed in defeat.

"When are you going?" she asked in a small voice.

""Tomorrow." She looked up sharply; she had not expected it to be so soon. "Like I said," continued Tom, voice still strong despite his averted gaze, "that demon could move at any time. If he decides it's t'morrow night then I need at least a full day to get what needs doing, done."

She sat down heavily on the bed as the finality of his words sunk in. _Tomorrow. _She couldn't imagine Tom being gone by tomorrow. To be honest she hadn't imagined Tom being gone _ever_. True, he hadn't exactly been the centre of her attention these past few weeks, but she'd always known he was around somewhere doing chores or something- someplace _safe_. And now he'd be off by the end of tomorrow, doing who knows what and enduring all sorts of horrors while she just sat around and waited like a helpless damsel, not knowing if he was dead or alive. But deep down she knew that there was truth in Tom's words, that it was necessary- even if those words had come out of a suddenly much more mature Tom. Everything he had said was completely rational- except the part about dying- and she _did_ want to see her brothers again. She looked down at her hands. She couldn't pinpoint why she was so upset.

"I'll be fine, Lynn," he said more gently, easing himself down on the bed beside her. When she remained silent he added, "I'm beginnin' to think you don't have an ounce of faith in me-"

"What time are you leaving?"

He looked at her before he spoke. "Sunrise," he said carefully.

She turned away from Tom's probing gaze. _So soon... _

"Well then," she said thickly, clearing her throat as she stood up. Tom stood up too. When had he grown so tall? "I guess I'll see you at sunrise," she nodded, crossing the room before he could do or say anything else. She turned briefly at the doorway. "Good night, Tom."

"...Good night," came the faint reply as she let the curtain fall. She maintained her measured pace until she was sure she was out of earshot.

Gwendolyn Darling had always been a proud girl, and her tear-stained face was not a sight she liked to share.

* * *

**A/N: **I think I'm a little bit in love with Tom. DIALOGUE IS SO MUCH FUN :3. Anyway, for all those who are still fans of Princey, I kept his POV in this ch. as close as possible to the original chapters in Lynn's POV. So if you read them together it should give you insight on what he was thinking while he was sitting and pouting and glaring at her XP (was an absolute nightmare to write). Don't be counting on another chapter too soon guys- my break is almost over.

Thanks to Karindii, BlueMizuki, uplifted(thanks for spotting the mistake, tis fixed ;), Moa, TheLadyPanda and DayDreamer733. You all seem way too happy with the Prince- hope this chapter added to that XD

And as for the other 50 or so who have this on alerts, what you waiting fer, eh? Press the button- you know you want to... :}


	22. The First Shot

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait guys, just don't have the time these days. 28/4/11

* * *

A guard led Lynn into the room but ironically, considering it was her he was thinking about, tonight the Prince was too mired in his thoughts to pay her presence much heed. Indecisiveness had been plaguing him all night. He barely took notice as she regarded his silence with worry before hesitantly beginning her tale. _It has to be done, _he told himself. _If not, her death is certain. _But even with this strong argument the slight frown remained on his features.

He was planning to use _Obsiqué_- he could see way that could hope to provide better results- but that did not mean it came without disadvantages. His frown grew deeper.

_Obsiqué_ was a bespelled piece of argentum. He had come across the discovery one day when he had been particularly bored and had wanted to practice his lessons. There was a lump of the black rock sitting in his room and so he'd decided to experiment. The result was what he had named _Obsiqué._ In its unrefined state, argentum could (for people other than he and the Queen) only be used to absorb the life force of others. Once transformed into _Obsique, _however,its powers grew considerably more useful.

_Obsiqué_ had two main properties; the first was to allow him control over the wearer's mind. Usually, seeing as personalities could only get in the way, the spell removed them, leaving a blank slate with which the Prince could work with, molding and tailoring the wearer's mind and abilities for whatever task he needed them to carry out. _Obsiqué _was very efficient; it wiped a person's memories and personality completely and as yet, no one had succeeded in bringing them back (this was probably largely due to the fact that no one had ever attempted such a thing). Children, he found, worked best as the older a person got the harder it was to suppress the resistances within them; they had too much experience. With time a servant could be trained very well but the most basic started off not very bright and rarely able to make decisions without being told. It was not easy training. The Prince himself only had a few extremely skilled ones. While he had several servants only a few were capable enough to carry out complex instructions- ones that required individual thought and decision making- without breaking the seal and regaining free will. Majority of his servants he used to accompany him on 'gathering' trips and managing the overall handling of the mines while he was away; feeding and keeping watch over the workers etc. He could not recall exactly how many he had at the moment (running any mining operation single-handed was no easy feat, not to mention one that he ran out of workers every few years or so) but overcoming a shortage of hands was rarely a problem.

The second- and accidental- achievement was to extend the longevity of the wearer by slowly feeding off the reservoir of life it contained. _Obsiqué _retained argentum's natural properties, so while the wearer used up the life stored inside it to heal from minor injuries, illnesses and retain their youthfulness, the stone would continue to absorb more life from the people them. He was immune of course, his power originating from a much more permanent source, so he did not mind keeping any number of servants around him.

He recalled how angry the Queen had first been when she'd found out that he had used some of her precious argentum on servant boys. She herself had no need for the laborious procedure being probably powerful enough to enslave whole armies with little effort. No, it was he, the lowly Prince, who had to suffer with the likes of time and training.

There was an obvious problem _Obsiqué's _first usein Lynn's case; if she was alive but with no personality then she might as well be dead- she certainly would be to him. But it was its second purpose that had the Prince considering it in the first place. What if there was a way he could alter the spell so that it would extend her lifespan but leave her personality untouched? Of course, he would have to find a way to control her partially so that she could not remove the gem or all his hard work would be wasted. That meant applying a partial seal, as opposed to the full seal he originally used. However, he had never attempted such a spell before; it was very complex and there was a very large possibility he had not done it right. Another thing worrying him was the effect of the altered memory portion of the spell; he had no idea what it would do to its argentum properties, the main reason he wanted to use it in the first place. It could very well kill her from the moment it touched her skin.

The idea of any part of her dying- be it her personality or corporeal form- troubled him. The image of green eyes, vacant and devoid of warmth staring back at him was one even he did not like to think about. In fact, now that he had been shaken out of his reverie a little he found that green eyes were indeed staring at him- but with more unhappiness than vacancy, he noted. Lynn bowed her head almost immediately.

"I apologise," he said. He had not been his most attentive tonight and his silence must have confused her. He paused. "You have served me well," he said. She would probably think of it as a simple gift, he thought, as he contemplated how she would react. It looked almost identical to any one of the trinkets he had handed out before.

But instead, she was looking at him with outright fear, her pupils dilating and the hand she had clasped to her chest, trembling. The Prince, although slightly puzzled at this extreme reaction, kept his face neutral. He had no intention of allowing any harm to come to her, so she would soon see her fears were completely groundless- whatever they were. But even as he silently commanded one of his servants to bring forth the spelled item, he felt a strange twisting sensation in his gut. He had never felt it before and he did not enjoy the feeling. He ignored it. Either the spell would work and she would live or it would fail in which case she would be completely spoiled and have to be sent to the mines. Or die. Again the twinge made itself known. On the other hand, if he did not give her the gem, she would die. She closed her eyes when the boy stepped forth as though waiting for the child to strike her.

He watched her stifle a gasp as she opened her eyes. "Thank you, sire," she said. "I…do not deserve such an honour."

"Amuse yourself with it later," he told her. Now was not the time to have his possible failures being paraded in front of him. He had called her for a reason and, limited life force not withstanding, he was going to make do with every drop she had left.

But as the night wore on and he was reminded once again why he had taken the pains he had to find a way to preserve the fragile creature sitting before him. It almost angered him to realize he was unsure of his ability to keep her alive for much longer. Of his inability and powerlessness to keep her alive; to keep her with him. The idea that this might have been the last time he would be able to savour her presence made a strange sort of helpless anger gather in his stomach. It did not help that she thanked him once again for the 'gift' that had yet to prove its worth. He was torn between being angry and upset.

He ran through the other possibilities in his mind after she left, checking and casting aside all the alternatives he had considered the night before. He despised feeling so helpless but what else was there to do? Perhaps if she was allowed sunlight her condition would improve somewhat? The forest allowed very little sunshine. Unlike him, he was told, most people needed it on occasion. He felt a small sense of victory as he even remembered Lynn mentioning it once. He thought hard. There were precious few places within his wide domain that allowed any chance of sunlight to penetrate its leafy canopy but there was one he had in mind. It was deeper into the isle but perhaps a walk would do her good as well. The idea of her roaming around in the wilderness unprotected was not a savoury thought. He frowned. He would have to employ the strictest security measures.

He would be gone for the next few days. The mines needed repleneshing again and it had been quite a while since he had last left the island- only once since Lynn had arrived. He did, for a fraction of a second, consider delaying his trip and accompanying Lynn on the excursion but then he dismissed it. He shook his thoughts clear and made the necessary arrangements with his head servant. It was one thing to preserve the girl but it was a whole other to go so far as to disobey his Queen. He was actually quite surprised at himself; he could not believe how much effort he had expended. He would certainly have never done this before. He wondered if the whole exercise was pointless, making such a fuss over one girl, whether he should even go so far as to take back the _Obsiqué _he had given her. But then the sight of Lynn smiling as she left, her green eyes shining with a familiarity that was not all her own flashed in his memory, and he knew it was not. She was different, he assured himself, a special case.

His first and last exception.

* * *

The Prince returned a few days later. Had he been in a hurry he would have likely materialised himself directly in his throne room but he was not overly exerted and it had been many months since he had surveyed the darkened forest that marked his domain, personally. The earth and animals responded to him as their master, basking in his presence and power. He strode through the forest, feeling the trees whisper to him, relaying to him all the events that had transpired between their branches in his absence. Most of it was of little worth, but as he drew nearer to his castle they whispered something he was not pleased to hear.

...

Step unfaltering, the head guard stepped forth and knelt at his Prince's feet.

_How did this happen? _He demanded staring down at the boy, cold and cruel. _Answer me, _ordered the Prince before the child had even the chance to explain.

The child groaned as he used both hands on the ground to support himself. The other nine guards guards stood silently in a semi-circle facing them.

Panting heavily, the boy brought forth the memories of the day before. The Prince's countenance was fury itself as the truth of the trees' whispers became clear. His pupils dilated and their colour darkened to pitch black. A keening wail escaped the unfortunate guard's lips as the Prince probed deeper into his memories, delivering the torture of knives along with it. In his current state there was no questioning who had sired him. The Prince was taut with rage as he looked down at the pitiful servant at his feet. Angry and upset, his mind roiled from the inner turmoil. He could not think straight. He was losing control- How dare they, the insolent, insubordinate fools! He had given them clear orders to protect her, to protect only her, and they had disobeyed him! They had let her be lost when they should have kept her safe. They had stolen his chance to see her.

They had stolen her from him.

_Why was this allowed to happen? _he asked, seething.

It was not a question but a statement with which he finally released the tension building up inside of him. None of guards in the room could stop themselves from falling to their knees, clutching their heads in agony, crying as they begged for the torture to end. The Prince was beyond reconciliation and the whites of his eyes could barely be seen as his anger consumed him. It was only by the mercy of his weakened strength that they lived to see the next day.

He left immediately to send out forces to locate her, relaying the last image his guards had of her, to those that were his eyes and ears in the forest. If she was still alive, he thought grimly, the forest would find her.

But no matter how long he searched, it seemed that Lynn had left him for good.

...

* * *

"I'm coming," said Lynn. There was a glint of determination in her red-rimmed eyes that none of the men had the heart to say no to.

"Fine," said the Captain. "But only as far as the perimeter- we don't want to risk getting too close. I needn't remind you that the Demon has put everything on high alert since you left."

She nodded and followed silently, as grim-faced as any of them.

It was still dark when they left but it was even darker once they crossed the perimeter of the forest. The men moved as quietly as possible in the pitch-blackness, relying only on the single torch held aloft by Rob who was leading the way. The party was larger than the Captain had originally intended but none of those present would have left for the world. 'A few more yards,' was the whisper relayed down the single file before they finally came to a halt.

Rob was pointing things out through the dense foliage to Tom who was listening attentively, face filled with concentration. The rest of them crowded in a small circle at the foot of a large, blackened oak. Eventually, Rob and Tom turned around and rejoined them. Barty went first.

"I still remember how you were when Rob firs' brought ya to me," he whispered to Tom. "Messin' aroun' in barrels all day long, couldn' do a days work te save yer life," he chuckled. "An look at ye' now." He put both hands on the boy's shoulders. "I'm so proud of ye', son," he said roughly, pulling Tom into a hug.

Tom wrapped his arms around the older man's back in a fierce hug. They were silent for a dew moments, locked in an embrace between a man and boy who had now become one too. "S'all thanks to you, Barty," he said. He pulled away as the older man hastily wiped his face. "I'll be back before you know I'm even gone." He smiled his signature cheeky grin.

The Captain went next. "Best of luck, Tom," said the Captain, holding his hand out formally before smiling warmly and clapping him on the back. "I'm sure you'll do us all proud."

"You can count me on, Capn'," said Tom seriously. "I'll make sure evr'y last one a' those boys gets out."

The Captain smiled again and ruffled his hair. "Aye lad, I'm sure you will."

"C'mere y'scoundrel," growled Rob, grabbing Tom around the head with unaccustomed playfulness. "You just make sure you do yer job alrigh'? No messing around. 'Else I'll skin you alive."

Tom laughed, pushing the burly man off with little trouble. "Gerrof! Haha, with you, Rob, a threat ain't somethin' I'd be willin' to risk."

"You never seemed to take any heed o' mine," grumbled Barty from the side.

"Aww, c'mon Barty, y'know you've always held a special place of terror in my heart," said Tom holding his hands to his heart, mock fear on his face. They all stifled their laughter, with Barty aiming a quick swipe to the lad's head.

"Och, y'little monkey," he chuckled.

Lynn smiled as she watched the group, comfortable as a family, trying hard not to feel left out. She really didn't want to break up the scene before her, it almost seemed selfish, but there was no way she was going to let Tom go without saying goodbye. She stepped forward and cleared her throat "Can I talk to you, Tom?" she asked, a little awkwardly. The men turned to look at her, in her messy bun and boy's trousers, but she looked only at Tom. The older men moved away to give them some privacy. "Make it quick, you two," said the Captain. They nodded simultaneously.

"So I guess this is it," she said after a pause.

"Guess it is," said Tom looking at his feet to break eye contact. He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "Look, Lynn, I-"

But he didn't have time to tell her what he wanted her to look at. And then there were green eyes and small hands coming at him, reaching up and around his neck to clasp him in a tight hug. She was almost on tiptoe. "Promise me you'll come back, Tom," she whispered fiercely. "_Promise_ me you will." His eyes widened with shock as he looked down at the top of her head. This wasn't what he'd been expecting at all. Completely unsure, he wrapped his arms around her tiny form. To be honest, he'd expected her to beg him not to go, to tell him that there was some other way- he even thought she might try to threaten and bribe him outta doing what he had to do. She felt so fragile in his arms. He should have known she wouldn't ask for any of those things.

No, what she was asking him of him was even more impossible.

Lynn squeezed her eyes shut as she began to feel the beads of moisture form. She'd lived for longer than she ever could have imagined, not knowing whether she'd ever get home, whether she'd ever find her brothers again, whether they were alive or dead... she couldn't live with that doubt about Tom too, not knowing that this time, there was a chance she could have stopped him. She felt his arms go around her cautiously but it was a while before he finally answered.

"I can't promise you tha', Lynn," he said softly, his warm breath tickling the shell of her ear. Her heart plummeted and she felt all the fight go out of her. He pulled back slowly to look her in the eyes. "But I'll do the best I can, alrigh'?" he said, brushing away some of her hair. "I promise." He pulled her in for another quick hug before stepping back, smiling shyly.

She was about to tell him that it was not alright. It was in no way, shape or form 'alrigh''. She was going to tell him that there was no way she was going to let him go without some sort of guarantee, a seal of satisfaction... but then Marcus came to tell them it was time, and all the words collapsed in a train wreck in her throat. She followed Tom numbly, the situation feeling almost unreal.

"Time to go, lad," said Rob, dousing the torch as he caught sight of them. Tom gave her one last smile and turned away. What? He was going already? It was too soon. How could he-? He raised a hand in a final salute before disappearing down a slope with Rob leading the way. And that was it. He was gone. If she hadn't been brought up as strictly as she had her mouth would have been hanging open.

The faintest rays of sunlight began to peek through the dense foliage.

"C'mon," said Marcus, shaking her out of her daze. "We need to move if we don't want to be seen." He led them up a nearby ledge where she arranged herself alongside Barty, lying flat on her stomach. She followed the sound of Tom's noisy descent with her eyes, down to a small clearing in the forest.

She couldn't see them making any more progress but branches and twigs continued to snap deliberately loud in the silence. One last twig was broken and then the noises stopped. All Lynn could hear was the hammering of her own heart and the shallow breathing of the men beside her. But then she noticed something strange.

The low background noises, the insects and that created the soundtrack of the forest, were getting louder. It could have been just the forest waking up- it was getting to the morning after all- but there was something unnatural about the speed of it all. It escalated from a faint humming to a buzz that was as loud as metal sawing through wood. It grew louder and louder until it became a deafening roar, swirling between her ears like a swarm of angry bees. It was the roar of the ocean in your head. She put her hands to her ears and ducked her head down, waiting for the blow to fall. And then the noises stopped.

She raised her head cautiously and looked around with confusion. Suddenly, a high-pitched sound sliced through the air and she saw Tom shoot out of the trees below like a bullet. Her eyes fixed on his frantic figure, unable to tear them away as he ran from one side of the clearing, trying to make it to the safety of the other. There was a sound like an explosion and two dark figures catapulted out of the night sky, streaming through the air in a neat, whistling ark. BANG! Tom's strangled screams rang out through the night as the two figures landed, each with a knee to his back. A flock of nearby crows ribboned into the sky, adding to the noise and confusion, blocking out the weak sunlight with their pitch black bodies. She watched on, horrified, as Tom writhed and fought his captors, the light dappling disfiguring shadows over him. She could only rely on her ears to make out what was going on and it was not a pretty sound.

The guards were brutal but efficient. In the time that a single tear streaked down Lynn's cheek, Tom had been beaten into submission and restrained. From where she was, after the birds and morning mist had cleared, a split lip and some bruising was the extent of the injuries she could see. She prayed it was nothing more serious as Tom's chin rested on his chest, his hands already tied up behind his back and his feet bound at the ankles. One guard took a quick look around the perimeter while the other hauled Tom over his shoulder and carried him away. She held her breath as the guard got too close to the place Rob was supposed to be hiding, but after a few minutes he turned around and followed the other guard away.

Before she knew it Barty and the Captain were getting up and beginning to make their way down the slope. She almost felt like telling them, 'wait, what about Tom?' It had all happened so fast. But instead she got up and hurried down herself, slipping frequently as her legs refused to stop shaking. She winced as she finally fell hard enough to cut her knee. It wasn't deep but it was enough to draw blood.

"Quickly, Princess," murmured Barty as he pulled to her feet. The sun was rising.

They found Rob and left the site as fast as they could. She wiped at the dirt and tears still chasing each other down her cheeks, willing her legs to go faster. If they were caught now all Tom's suffering would have been for naught. She sped up. But nothing she tried would rid the terrible images flashing through her mind in endless succession.

"That demon will burn in hell," swore Marcus as they ran. "He'll pay for his crimes if it's the last thing I do."

And as she ran, Lynn found herself wanting the words to come true.

...

* * *

**A/N: You like? Decided to finish this chapter because my revision is Not. Getting. Itself. Done. Exams are in 2 weeks and as my stupidity reveals itself, reviews would help dearly my morale. Plus, I had a blast writing huge chunks of this.**** Fav characters/scene anyone?**

*NOTE: here, some may (or may not) be wondering how the Prince didn't find Lynn even though she's been traipsing in and out of the forest drawing a map for a good few chapters. Well, she doesn't look like Lynn, does she? Not as he remembers her, anyway. In fact, she looks like a boy from a distance. And wolves aren't all that clever from a distance. The pirates' hideout is on the sea/outskirts of the forest so Princey's range doesn't reach that far.

**Next update will be in June :) Wish me luck in my exams guys!**


	23. Battle Cry

**A/N:** The June update, as promised. Biggie, this one. 17/6/11

* * *

Tom's spirits sank with the shaft lift.

He watched the jagged stone walls rise up and around him till the morning sky was but a speck of blue above his head. He followed obediently, dragging his feet and the shackles around them, to where he would soon be put to work. The sound of metal clanging against stone reverberated through the air as he walked, adding to his already throbbing headache. It was very dim at the bottom; a few oil lamps and torches were dotted intermittently along the walls, hung on hooks or set into little dug outs- so the inmates could see their feet when they shuffled from one jail cell to the next, he thought to himself bitterly. The familiarity of it all was nauseating.

The shackles were loose around his ankles but Tom knew from experience that the skin would be rubbed raw within a few days. Morning had been well under way when he'd finally regained consciousness; the last thing he remembered was fighting tooth and nail before waking up to the sting of some ointment being dabbed at the cuts on his face. He'd passed out soon after though. Sadly, the oinment had done nothing for his lingering headache, which only promised to intensify the longer he spent down here. His torso had been wrapped and he was sure a few of his ribs had been broken- wheezing was not a good sign- and a couple of bruises adorned his arms. Tom was just glad they had not made him face the Prince.

They stopped just outside the entrance of a tunnel where a key was produced and his hands released. He rubbed his wrists gingerly trying to delay entering for as long as he could. One of the guards thrust a pickaxe into his hands and he handled its weight clumsily; it was heavier than he'd remembered. He was pushed along to get going, into the tunnel where the lights were dotted even more sparsely along the walls and gaunt faces ignored him as he passed. Finally he was left at his station, the post deepest in the tunnel, where there was barely enough light to see the wall he was supposed to mine. The clink of keys grew quieter and quieter as the guard walked away but there was no reaction from the tunnel's workers.

Tom immediately dropped his pickaxe, sitting down as he ran his fingertips over the chafing and rope burns he'd collected, breathing heavily through his nose as his ribs strained against their bandages. The darkness pressed down on him and he could already feel the despair and desolateness seeping into him. There were footsteps drawing closer but they were preceded by the telltale clink of chains so he stayed seated.

"No injuries, I hope?"

"..."

"Don't worry, t'ain't all that bad," continued the voice, crouching a little in an attempt to see Tom's face a little clearer. "What's your name, lad?" The corner of Tom's mouth twitched as he fought to remain silent. "Lad?"

"A 'lad' would think you weren't glad to see yer friend...Sam," said Tom, finally looking up with the first mile-wide grin he'd worn on his face in a long time.

"Lord Almighty," breathed Sam dropping to his knees. "Tom!" he yelled, pulling the older boy into a hug. He winced at the sharp spikes of pain the hug brought. Finally, Sam pulled back, keeping one hand on Tom's shoulder while the other gestured wildly in the dark. "What are you doing here? How did you-? You no good scoundrel!" he huffed, scowling at Tom's silently shaking form. Tom couldn't help it; it was so good to see a familiar face- this _particular _familiar face- again. "I thought for sure you was a gonner," continued Sam, still talking. "You-! Drove me half mad you did. Ah but boy am I glad to see you again Tom!" he said, dragging the older boy into another hug.

"It's good to see you too, Sam," said Tom happily, interrupting his friend's rather loud outbursts and gently pushing him back. His ribs were going to spilt. "But I'd rather not get thrown in a dungeon or the likes-"

"Not a chance," cut in Sam. "Greens was set for his patrol just as you got here; ain't no one'll hear us for now." Tom relaxed a little.

"Good."

"But..." Sam scrubbed at his face and looked at the opening of the tunnel warily. "Argh," he scowled, picking up his pickaxe and reluctantly getting to his feet, still glancing between Tom and opening. Tom stood up, watching the conflicted boy with a fond, slightly teasing smile, knowing the direction of his thoughts.

"Don' worry, Sam," he said gently. "I ain't goin' nowhere without you this time."

"Y'got that right." Sam pulled him into a quick, rough hug and returned to his post just in time.

They probably wouldn't get another chance to talk till dinner but Tom was happy to see Sam still alive and well, albeit a little thinner. Tom bent down and picked up his discarded pickaxe, shifting its weight in his hands till it felt comfortable. The shadow at the entrance of the tunnel indicating their jailer was done with his patrol. He didn't know the boy working next to him but he offered the lad a smile in return for his curious stare and raised the pickaxe above his head. Ouch. He lowered the pickaxe and rubbed gently at his side, grimacing as he waited for the pain to subside. He remembered the feeling of two anvils slamming into him from behind and suddenly, why everything was hurting so badly made a lot more sense. He lifted his arms a little lower and tapped against the rock. He could handle this.

But the easy smile Tom had worn while Sam was around slowly slipped as the tendrils of pain and depression bled into him and the voices began...

* * *

...

Lynn watched the waves lap away at the shore's edge.

"Here," said Marcus, surprising her with a cup of tea. "You'll need to keep your strength up."

"Thanks," she murmured. He used his formal accent around her, she noticed.

Lynn had been up since sunrise, helping the men load the last bits of cargo onto the ships, shifting things to where they needed to be... She had done everything she could think of and now all that was left to do was the waiting. Thoughts flew around her mind like restless gulls.

"Lynn, are you sure-" Lynn pulled herself out of her daze and nodded once, sharply cutting Marcus off. She had had the same argument a thousand times with everyone else and she refused to have it again.

"I already told you," she said with forced patience. "I can't tell you how to get to the girls' chamber; I'll only know the turns when I see them." It wasn't like she was withholding information out of sheer stubbornness; even if staying behind would make her feel every bit the helpless damsel, Lynn wasn't so selfish that she'd put herself first if it meant possibly jeopardizing the mission. She _had_ tried to remember the way but, honestly, the Prince's lair was a complete maze and even she couldn't properly map it out straight. Lynn knew a lot of the men figured she was bluffing, that she was faking it so that she could get part of the action and not wait by the docks like a little girl, and it hurt. If the Captain decided to join the likes of them then Lynn had no desire to stay in his company. "I wouldn't lie to you."

She waited while the Captain appraised her down the length of his long, crooked profile. "Alright. I believe you."

"Thank you," she said, allowing the tension to bleed from her shoulders. Radmer was among the skeptics, of course, and he had been grating her nerves earlier which was why she'd decided to come down here in the first place: there was no way she was leaving the girls behind no matter what.

"Where are we headed, Marcus?" She asked after a time, finally voicing one of her thoughts. "After all this, after we get all the boys out, where are we setting sail to?"

Marcus didn't look at her when he answered, instead gesturing to a point beyond the horizon. "There's a mainland of sorts, about a day's journey from here; few of the lads spotted a settlement. We should be safe there."

So there really was no way they'd ever get home, she thought, stifling a sigh. Still, at least she'd have the boys back. That was something to look forward to in itself, and as long as she had them maybe things wouldn't be so bad. It was hard to believe she'd been talking to Tom only last night. How quickly things changed...

Lynn rested her chin on her knees, her half-empty cup dangling from one hand. "I hope Tom's alright."

* * *

...

"Apparently, the guards 'av bin shifting him around alot. He's bin in three squads so far: Miguel, Alex _and _Jared all said they had him in their squad at one point or other." Phil took a breath to swallow and watch the mines' newfound celebrity with John. "Makes you wonder why they're doing it, dunnit?"

It certainly did make a boy wonder. The guy had the 'notoriety package' going for him: even from where they were sitting, John could see the boy's split lip and bruising on his upper arms. Two guards had escorted him personally into mess from the caves and two more, it was said, followed him around even when he went to the toilet. John tried to pick out the details that he could see. Whoever he was, he must be either very dangerous or very strong for the guards to be watching him so carefully. John watched as the boy, who was currently sitting over on the far side of the mess hall in close conference with Sam, threw his head back with an easy laugh.

He didn't look dangerous though. Maybe it was because he was older than the rest of them? Before the newcomer arrived, Sam was the oldest one left in the mines, but this boy looked about seventeen at the least (a good three of four years older than Sam) if John was any judge.

"What's his name?" asked John, tuning in to Phil's rambling on how cool the new guy was.

Phil scratched his head giving momentary pause. "I fink its Todd or somethin'."

"No it isn't," piped up Michael, swinging his legs beneath the table. "It's Tom."

Phil and John looked at him in surprise. "How do you know that?" they asked in unison.

"Sam told me," said the boy easily. "He was going to get seconds or something- you weren't here- and I asked him." The two older boys looked at each other in confusion. When had Sam passed by?

Before either John or Phil could ask about this intriguing new development, the redhead himself was standing over their table smiling, "C'mon you lot, its time I introduced you to a very good friend of mine."

...

Tom pushed his spoon around his bowl, slowly lifting his spoon to his mouth so as to not jar his ribs. He could barely catch his breath, his muscles were screaming in agony and he'd been dragged around far too many times for his liking. He'd been so relieved in the beginning to find himself in the same squad as Sam, a face he already knew, but before he knew it he was being transferred to another group and then another. Luckily he'd managed to find a familiar face in all the squadrons he'd been sent to so far but according to Sam there was a fourth he hadn't seen yet. Tom suspected the guards were wary of him inciting a riot or an uprising or something, hence, the constant shifting. They were justified in their fears but that didn't mean their efforts were successful.

The Cap'n had warned him of not discussing it anywhere out in the open as the guards were notorious for their good hearing. He had suggested a note or hidden message of some sort but Tom thought Minespeak was by far the safest option.

Minespeak (what the boys liked to call the 'morse-code' hidden in the clangs of their pickaxes) was very a very crude form of communication. Hammering the message out had been more difficult than Tom had expected- it didn't help that he'd forgotten a lot of it too. Not many of the lads working near him would have been able to make sense of the conversation; a lot of the codes Tom had used were practically ancient. Unless they'd been around in the old days they wouldn't have understood him at all.

It had taken a bit of convincing for Sam to stop asking what had happened to Tom since he'd last seen him but when Tom explained what they were planning the questions promptly stopped- there would be time for that later. Tom had managed to pass the gist of the plan to Sam and most of his old friends. The rotation of squads the guards were putting him through had turned out to be a good thing after all.

The lads would find it much easier to trust their captains and lucky for Tom most of his old friends _were_ the captains, which meant that at least one captain from each squad already knew the plan. They would be able to explain the plan to the lads much more clearly than Tom had in his rusty, halting Minespeak. Now all they needed was a chance to tell them.

Captains were unspoken selections made by the boys. They were picked based on either strength or experience, both of which were essential to survival in the mines. A captain's job was to generally look out for their squad; pick up the slack, call for medical attention, bargain with the guards to lighten/lessen a boy's shifts etc. More often than not there was more than one captain per squad.

He glanced around the room again. Sam claimed there were three whole squads in the room but in Tom's experience there were barely enough boys to fill two. There'd been a sickness, Sam had told him, that swept through the mines a few months ago taking with it almost half the workforce. Tom's mouth twisted in mimicry of his heart at the memory of faces he had hoped to but now never would see. There had been an initial increase in numbers just after the disease passed but then the Prince suddenly stopped bringing new boys.

"And I'm glad," Sam had said. "Less kids in the world that're made to suffer."

But Tom could see the strain the added workload was taking on the boy- on all of them. They were so much thinner than Tom remembered that it took all his strength not to strike down the guards there and then when he saw how hard they were forcing the lads to works. It made him feel sick. So, aching muscles and broken ribs notwithstanding, Tom made sure he worked extra hard if only so that his squad would make their quota without someone passing out by the end of the day. He twisted his arm around in his socket to ease the stiffness; the work had not come without its taxes but the reward had definitely been worth it.

Tom slurped down another watery mouthful and easily spotted his friend's bright mop of red hair even from where he was sitting. He was reminded of the time he had first joined the mines; the first time he'd met Sam. They'd been about the same age then, he and Sam, with him being a little taller and Sam a little stockier. Now, while Tom was already beginning to feel the width of his shoulder blades pushing at the seams of his shirt, Sam's voice had barely cracked. He hadn't missed his friend's shocked reaction at seeing how much Tom had changed; it almost equaled his own surprise at how much Sam _hadn't_. For one, he still had his flaming red hair, which was more than could be said for his brother. Tom remembered with a smile how hard Sam had laughed when he'd told him that his brother was still alive and bald as a baby's bottom.

Tom stole a glance at the guards and saw that, sure enough, almost all of them were still watching him. He found it beyond frustrating that during mess when, for the first time all day, they didn't have pickaxes clanging in their skulls, he had to keep quiet instead of telling the lads more about the plan, who they knew that was still alive, how Tom had found his way back... More than once, Tom had had to literally bite his tongue to keep from speaking out; he was not a naturally quiet boy and this forced silence was driving him crazy. But he would be completely useless to everybody if he got caught now. Tom sighed at himself. He needed to be more patient. But it was difficult when anxiety that something was waiting to go wrong gnawed at him. What if the guards changed the routine? What if they opened up a new mine and moved the boys before the demon left? What if-?

"Tom, I'd like you to meet a couple friends o'mine," said Sam, neatly breaking into his thoughts. Tom looked up to see two older boys- one blond, the other dark haired- and a younger one also with blonde hair. "Tom- meet Phil, John and Michael. Phil, John and Michael- Tom," said Sam, waving his hands as he made the introductions and pushed the boys down into their new seats.

Tom cocked his head slightly, a slow grin stretching his mouth. It couldn't be- "Tell me, John, are you an' Michael brothers?" he asked, grinning widely.

John's eyes widened behind his glasses. It wasn't uncommon for people to realise he and Lynn were siblings, but without seeing their parents you could be forgiven for thinking Michael was Phil's little brother, what with the blonde hair and blue eyes. "Um, yes. Yes we are," he said hesitantly. Tom had an infectious grin and John found himself smiling back almost without realising it. "People usually don't guess that right away," he added. Tom's grin, if possible, widened even more.

"I'm a good guesser," said Tom, shrugging his shoulders.

But whether the action was just a nonchalant gesture or from laughter, John couldn't be sure. Tom's blue eyes were dancing merrily. Why was he looking at him like he knew something John didn't?

...

Tom fidgeted in his seat; if the guards weren't such a concern Tom would've jumped up and tackled the boys into a hug there and then. He badly wanted to tell the boys about their sister but he didn't want to frighten or startle either of them into saying something he'd rather the guards not hear- even if John did look like a smart lad. He toned down his smile and slurped down another mouthful of soup, his eyes flicking towards the exits. The guards still were watching him closely and any more hushed conversation would not get him in their good graces any time soon.

"Is it true you have a dragon tattoo on your back?" blurted Phil, dragging him from his thoughts.

Tom laughed, turning to embarrassed the boy with a wink. "Well if I do, ain't no one that tole' me about it!"

...

"John, mind givin' me a hand here?" asked Tom as he balanced the table's soup bowls in his arms. John, who wasn't exactly sitting closest to the head of the table, looked confused but stood up.

"Sure thing, Tom." John went around the table picking up the remaining empty dishes. Tom waited for him and they walked towards the sinks side by side.

"So," said Tom quietly as they soaped the dishes. "How are you findin' everythin'?" From this close the resemblance was striking.

John shrugged. "Its no picnic but we don't exactly have a choice, do we?" Tom nodded and dunked the dishes in the rinsing tray, waiting to see if the boy had noticed or not. He was not disappointed. "Tom?" asked John after a pause. "How did you _really_ know Michael and I were brothers?"

Tom looked up with a smile and a guileless look that said, 'who, me?' but John wasn't fooled. "I saw you looking at me," said John, smiling back. "Someone's been saying things about me, haven't they? Was it Sam? Michael? What did-?"

"It wasn't Sam or Michael," said Tom quickly. He held his hand out for the next plate and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't react, alrigh'?" John looked at him curiously but nodded, handing him the soapy dish. "Lynn told me."

It was good thing he'd taken the dish because judging by John's expression it would be on the floor in a thousand pieces by now. The boy's eyes were huge and his voice came out in a surprised squeak.

"What did you-? How do you-?"

"Quiet," hissed Tom. The guards were looking at them suspiciously and John had stopped soaping. Tom grabbed a dirty dish and thrust it in the boy's hands. "Keep yer hands moving an' I'll tell you." John seemed to jerk to his senses and began washing at an almost furious pace, keeping his gaze trained on his hands. Tom spoke to him out of the corner of his mouth. "Lynn escaped the demon. She an' some others are plannin'-" His eyes flicked over at the guards. He couldn't say the next words out loud even if he wanted to. It was too risky. But his was the only squad that hadn't been told, and according to the boys, John was on his way to becoming captain.

Tom made up his mind.

There was a stack of dishes drying on the table behind him. He turned to pile another dish on top and 'accidentally' bumped the table with his hip. Shards of porcelain flew everywhere. He dragged John close to him amidst the chaos, guards already advancing on them from all directions. "Its an escape," he hissed. "The southern n' main sections are gonna blow, when that happens, move yer squad to the cave off the main." He pushed the boy away before the guards reached them and dropped to his feet to pick up the broken porcelain. "Sorry!" he said loudly, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry! Didn' know it was that close."

Four guards stood over him while he cleaned and another escorted John away. The boy's eyes were wide but he blinked quickly and made his face relax before the guard had a chance to notice. Tom's face straightened and he concentrated on not cutting his fingers. The hall was silent for a long moment before the normal hustle and bustle picked up again.

Two guards took hold of his upper arms as soon as he was done, revisiting the old bruises. Tom bit back a curse. The hall quieted again as he was marched through the room. John, he was glad to see had rejoined his brother at the table. Worried faces filled his vision as he was escorted out and Tom fought to replace his grimace with a smile. Even if John hadn't caught all of that Tom had given Sam more than enough distraction for him to fill the boy in- just as they'd planned.

...

The guards did not release him when they entered the narrow tunnel, never mind the fact that was barely enough room for the two of them to walk abreast. One guard, finally tired of scraping his side against the tunnel wall, went ahead while the other tightened its grip on his arm. Tom hissed in protest. It had been a risky thing to do, one that he knew might come with serious consequences, but at least he could sleep easy with the knowledge that all the squads knew. Or would know eventually.

But no matter how many times he told himself he'd done the right thing, when he finally saw the staircase, Tom could not keep his legs from shaking. His trembling worsened the further down they climbed. Everyone knew that the lower you went the worse the voices- visions- whatever you wanted to call them- became. And they were taking him to the deepest place there was.

They were taking him to a place deeper and darker than any other cave, a place built solely for punishment, a place so tight and airless it was like being buried alive; like drowning in rock.

They were taking him to the Hole.

* * *

...

"Lights out," barked the guard.

All the boys obediently settled themselves on identical straw pallets, pulling scratchy, woolen blankets up to their chins to ward off the cold. The guard walked along the length or their narrow dorm, dousing all but three of the torches adorning the walls.

Tom staggered in three hours later, barely managing to cushion his fall as his knees gave way. His eyes closed as soon as he hit the blanketed straw throwing him into the arms of sleep...

_...His mother was smiling at him; he had something on his face. He squirmed out of her grasp with a giggle and ran after his little sister. She was running and laughing- dancing away so her yellow hair ribbon was always just out of reach. He pumped his legs faster but she laughed and skipped away, her laughter echoing around him. He ran and ran and smiled; this time he'd catch her._

_A raindrop landed on his nose and he looked up to see the sky heavy and dark, thunder and lightning chasing each other amidst the black clouds. He looked forwards and ran faster, harder. He needed to get her home; she would get sick in this weather- but she was always just out of reach._

_Her laughter grew shrill and her yellow sundress blurred in the heavy rain. Dread and fear coiled like snakes in his stomach. He wiped the water out of his eyes and reached out blindly. He spun her around and they faced each other, both soaked to the skin. Her head was bowed. She suddenly looked very, very small._

_'Sarah? You alrigh'?' he asked hesitantly._

_She was not struggling anymore and he pulled back his hand._

_"You said you' wouldn't leave me," she said, her voice eerie and distorted. "You said you'd look after me, Tommy. You promised Mama you would." His throat tightened._

_'I will. I'll always look after you, Sarah.' He was trying to get the words out but his tongue was too heavy for him. Could she even hear him?_

_It had stopped raining._

_'Sarah?'_

_Suddenly, her head whipped up and hate filled her azure eyes as she pointed a finger at him accusingly. ''You're a liar! A nasty, rotten liar, Tommy!" Tears rolled down her cheeks and sadness replaced the rage. She sobbed into her hands. "Why did you go? Why did you leave me, Tommy?" He stared at her as she looked up, her voice faltering, tears sparkling in her eyes. "...Tommy? Tommy, w-where are you...?"_

_'I'm here,' he tried to say. 'I'm right here!'_

_But she could not hear him._

_"Tommy? Tommy, I'm sorry! Please- please come back. I-I'm sorry! Please...!" Tears pricked at his eyes and throat when she sank to her knees, shaking from the force of her sobs, calling for him, begging for him to return; she did not mean the things she had said._

_He reached out to touch her, to assure her he was still there-_

_But thick, dark whips sprouted from the ground, looping up and binding his arms, holding him tight. He was forced to watched, unable to move while the thick cords wound around his torso, his legs- neck- mouth... He could do nothing but watch in mute horror and eventually her sobs quieted._

_Then, with her head still bowed, the fair locks surrounding her face began to grow, tumbling past her shoulders in golden waves and darkening at the roots. She looked up for him to see the blue of her eyes growing darker. The youthful face became lined; he was looking at his mother._

_"Why did you go, Tommy?" She sounded hurt. Accusing. "You were my little man. Why did you leave...?"_

_He blinked and suddenly it was Sarah's face he was looking at._

_"Why did you leave...?"_

_Their faces swirled together and now it was as though he was looking at them both simultaneously. Salty tears gained entrance to his mouth._

_"Why did you leave __**us**__?"_

_'No,' he mouthed desperately. 'No! I didn't mean to! It wasn't my fault-!'_

_The woman's head bowed and her hair changed again, spilling waves of chestnut brown from the crown of her head and coating the strands to the tips. Her eyes were green and filled with tears when she opened them. "You lied to me, Tom," she said. He flinched away from her causing the tendrils around his torso to twine even tighter. "You said you would bring them back safe..."_

_Her voice was pure heartbreak and hatred. There was something in her lap._

_'No,' he mouthed, horrified- terrified. 'No, Lynn, I swear... I swear I'll- I kept them safe-'_

_She looked at him, her eyes a green accusation, and then looked down at her lap. He followed her gaze to where- Screams finally ripped free from his throat, thundering in his ears as his world collapsed._

"NO!"

Tom's eyes shot open, his mouth still contorted into the shape of his scream. He sat up, knuckling his eyes in a desperate attempt to rid himself of sleep and the images brought with it. He removed his fists to see a guard standing over him holding a lamp aloft; he must have screamed out loud. Tom could feel the beads of cold sweat sliding down his forehead and spine. "Nightmare," he said hoarsely, by way of explanation. The guard hovered over him a moment longer but eventually left, taking the glaring lamplight away with him. Tom blinked fiercely. "It was just a dream," he muttered to himself. "Just a dream."

Tom could feel sixty watchful eyes trained on his upright form. It was normal to have nightmares- it was practically part of the job description- but Tom found himself ashamed all the same. Maybe if he concentrated on feeling embarrassed he would forget the image of-

He exhaled sharply, focusing on the dancing shadows instead. How could he have forgotten this part of the job? He hunched over, putting his face in his hands. It was because he'd been in the Hole. If he hadn't he could have handed them, but not now.

"I had a nightmare too."

Tom looked up and saw a boy not much older than Michael hugging his knees with tears welling in his eyes. He cleared his throat, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. He wasn't sure what to do next.

But apparently, the little boy did.

"I want to go h-home, sir," he whimpered, launching himself into Tom's arms and sobbing brokenly into his shirt.. "I j-just want to go home."

The sight tore at Tom's heart. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the child and rocked him gently, while the boy continued to cry. He held him until his sobs subsided and he pushed away lightly, wiping his eyes and looking up at him with such misery Tom knew there was no way he'd allow himself to fail. But the boy wouldn't know about the plan till tomorrow.

Tom smiled ruefully in the dark and ruffled the boy's hair. He had to swallow before he spoke. "What's yer name, lad?"

"J-Johan."

"Well, Johan, here's a trick an old pal o' mine taught me," he said, guiding the boy back to his pallet and pulling the blanket back over him. "If ever you get to feelin' low, think about somethin' or someone that makes you really, really happy. Think abou' tha' an' imagine you're there with 'em. But It only works if you really believe it." He winked, earning a weak smile from the boy.

Tom sat back on his haunches. He might as well say something since he'd woken them all up anyway. "I know its hard, lads- God only knows how _much_ I know tha' truth- but it'll get better, I promise." He closed his eyes and let his minder wander to happier times, happier places and faces... "One day, we _will_ get outta here. Away from this _pit_ tha' eats at yer souls- No more pickaxes, no more agonite, no more of this blas-!" he cut himself off and breathed out slowly through his mouth to regain control of his temper. "Tha' demon _will_ be punished. One way or another, if I ever- I swear the things-" He stopped suddenly, catching himself rambling. Tom awkwardly cleared his throat in the silence of the room and took another steadying breath, this time for his laughter.

"But fer _now_, lads," he said, much more calmly, the smile now evident in his voice. "We need to be patient. Just promise me ye'll do tha' for me an' I promise, one day, we'll all be free. G'night, lads." A murmured chorus of 'good-nights' whispered in the air and Tom couldn't help but smile.

He patted Johan's knee under his blanket, trying to avoid the boy's adoring doe-like eyes. "Feelin' better?" he whispered. Johan nodded, wiping his runny nose on a shirtsleeve, his little face shining with hope. "Try to get some sleep," he said, lying down himself.

The guards would not take notice of his speech: he had just been punished, those sort of words were normal for an upset, embarrassed little boy; they were just empty threats to make himself feel better.

But little did they know that tonight, to the thirty or so boys crowded in Tom's dorm and- coincidentally- all the dorms across the cave network, those usually empty words were ringing through the air with newfound conviction, their speakers' eyes glistening with renewed hope and determination. It buoyed up the spirits of every little boy who heard them even when they didn't yet have any solid proof to believe that this time would be any different. For the first time in a long time, real hope rose in their chests and the oppressive darkness suddenly didn't feel so heavy. For once, their dreams weren't twisting into nightmares like they usually did; suddenly, with the inexplicable promise of freedom hanging in the air, the mines became almost bearable.

Tom stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, hands resting atop his stomach. Now, to take his own advice. Which memory should he choose first?

* * *

...

The Prince sat on his throne staring sightlessly at the magnificent door that led to his chambers. His cheeks were hollow and dark crescent moons underlined his pale blue eyes. He looked gaunt and his clothes hung off him in a way that, had it not been him, one would call unhealthy; just because food would do him good did not mean he needed it to survive. His mouth was turned down in an almost permanent frown and it had been so long since he had left his castle that his complexion had been drained of its final dregs of colour.

He had one last task to complete before he left. All it took was a single word, a single thought, and yet he could not find the energy to form the order to bring up the final one. His five highest ranking servants, still more wary of him than ever before, stood on the edge of sight waiting for his next command. He muttered under his breath- _Just one more left._

He had erased all traces of her from the others' memory, save one: the dark-haired one with the plain face and thick accent. She was the only one left. Memory upon emerald-green memory swirled behind his eyes- some of them new and others, very, very old. Even in her absence, the mere memory of her- of the girl who looked so much like his mother- the shadow of her presence, was something he refused to share.

The Prince ignored the more emotional reason, instead focusing on more serious issue which was should his Queen find out about his past behaviour it was unlikely- in the strongest sense of the word- that he would survive her wrath: he was acting on self-preservation.

Added to that, there had been strange going-ons in his forest of late. Ever since that day, the Prince had set up a constant day patrol of the forest grounds. At night, the forest wildlife took over. Nevertheless, somehow, someone had managed to get in. His mind turned over to the boy whom his guards had found on the edge of the southern perimeter. There was nothing beyond the southern border except the sea but the Prince had ordered a second search anyway. The search turned up a small bloodstain on the nearby grounds but nothing else of substance. The rest of the group had likely been eaten; he was not in the habit if feeding the night patrol as regularly as his Queen had. After he'd had the boy's wounds tended to he sent him down to the mines. He was older than the Prince would have like- just entering manhood- so the Prince ordered a watchful guard to be placed on him; older ones were harder to crack.

The presence of strangers on the isle did not bother the Prince. Once, many were in the habit of venturing to his isle from the mainland, bathing at the waters edge on the sands still pristine from disuse. But if the trespassers ventured too close or a child mysteriously lost its way, then he was not to be held accountable. The Queen agreed that fools could not expect any less. His brow puckered into a frown. The Queen...

_'Child.'_

_"My Queen," he replied, immediately sinking on one knee though he could not see her. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" It had been many years since he had had any sign of her._

_'Rise, child mine.' She laughed like shattering glass in his head. 'You will not see me this day; I only wish to speak to you.'_

_He rose and waited._

_'How are my mines?' she began._

_"Doing well, your highness. I trust you have received our shipments?" With the sickness only recently over the Prince had barely been able to scrounge up enough to fulfill the Queen's usual request. If she had come to increase her order he would be found out- and therefore soon to be dead- the next shipment was due in less than 3 days._

_'Of course.' He allowed himself to calm slightly. 'However, I do miss the gifts you used to present me with. They amused me. And yet, I find myself no longer receiving them, Peder.' His name was whispered like a caress but inside him some invisible shackle tightened its grip. 'You do not leave the island as often, Peder. Why is that?'_

_"There have been matters in the mines requiring my- attention, my Queen."_

_'Of course, there are 'matters' to attend to. There are always 'matters', my child. But that does not explain why you have not left.' He could hear the disdain and impatience in her voice and Peder wandered just how much pain she could inflict from so far away. He fought to suppress the cold seeping through his veins but whether it was the Queen's doing or not he couldn't tell. His upright stance faltered. 'I do wonder what is keeping my most faithful servant so distracted.'_

_"N-no, my Queen-" he bit out. But she was not finished-_

_'I will give you one last chance,' she hissed. -_

That had been almost a week ago.

He had no idea when she would call next but the Queen had wasted no time in telling him what would happen if he failed another test:_ 'Should I call on you again and find myself unimpressed, let there be no doubt that the matter of your loyalties will shortly cease to be of any concern to me... or you.'_

His smooth features twisted in a scowl feeling the noose already tightening. He should not have to deal with this. His pulled his jet-black mask off and threw it to the ground, covering his face with a hand. He had serviced the mines for several decades- almost a hundred years! Was that not enough to warrant any reward?

He tried to seethe, but the knowledge of his helplessness sapped at his anger and he hung his face in his hands. Truth be told the mines were in a mess. If he wanted them to be any semblance of how they had been three months ago then he needed to act now. He hoped the Queen had more important things on her mind.

Though there was no indication of it in his windowless room, the Prince knew by now that the sky would have just turned dark. He usually preferred to wait for the cover of stars- it was barely dusk- but his thoughts made him restless and he decided it was time. He bent down to retrieve the feathered face ornament, brushing away the bits of dirt that clung to it. The plain one could wait, he decided, his thoughts achieving clarity at last; there were much more important things he had to attend to. He refitted the mask to his face and with a single directed thought, he summoned his head guard to him, laying out specific instructions that were to be executed while he was away. The guard nodded and vanished. When he reappeared a moment later to take his place, he found the other guards already in position, in a ring around their master.

The Prince raised his hand and in a burst of pitch black the earthen throne room finally stood empty.

* * *

...

Cecco sat by the fire, passing the stone over the metal in smooth, repetitive, strokes. The knife blade gleamed in the firelight. The atmosphere in the cave was tense and men wandered from one corner to another, checking and re-checking their equipment in restless anxiety.

"He's gone!" shouted a man at the cave's entrance, shattering the silence. "The Demon has left the island!"

There was a general uproar as men crowded around the scout. "-Einar s-said he saw the palace guards being released- n-not five minutes ago!" He panted. "The patrols are spreading out as we speak."

"Raise the anchors! Fire the signals!" Marcus roared. "We need to move NOW!"

Cecco rose slowly to his feet, sheathing his short sword in the scabbard at his hip.

It was time.

...

* * *

**A/N: **Some of you asked questions in the last chapter but I want to save the answers for a little _'Fun Facts'_ section in the final Author's Note. Sound good?

On a side note, I really want to write Cecco his own little ficlet; would any of you be interested in reading that? O.o?

_**Next up, The Final Chapter..**_


	24. Fear and Doubt

**A/N:** Call me a witch but I just couldn't write any quicker... 6/9/11

**EDIT(27/3/12):** **READ THIS GUYS**. **READ ITTTTT~** I know you guys must be thinking, "But Nony, we've already read this chapter~" and you're right, except I've re-written the bit between Tom/Lynn because it was driving me crazy with how bad it was and how I'd _completely_ _screwed up_ their personalities so I went back and re-wrote it (and deleted a whole page of useless bits)- and if you can't spot the difference then all's the better coz the old one was absolutely _horrible_. ?

* * *

_"Raise the anchors! Fire the signals!" Marcus roared. "We need to move NOW!"_

Lynn dashed away, the shouted commands tripping on her heels. She grabbed her satchel off her bed double checking a final time to make sure all her essentials were still in place- chalk, a length of rope, some candles and a box of matches, just in case. She could not afford to be forgetting things now. She hurried back to the main cave to where Cecco and another burly man, Jim, stood waiting for her.

The cave was full of moving people; some moving towards the kitchens to ready the ship, others heading towards the forest carrying torches and twine while a few stayed in the cave, gathering bedrolls and stray bundles of firewood.

She hurried to Cecco's side. Marcus managed them a distracted nod and then they were off.

The sun was already halfway down when they reached the spot where sand gave way to grass, lending the gloomy forest a reddish tinge. Cecco led the trio into the forest, Lynn directly behind him, keeping their footsteps light as the forest swallowed them up. The light was waning and soon it would be too dark to see without torches.

Her feet followed the invisible path, automatically avoiding concealed roots and stepping over puddles of mud. She ducked below the thorny branches with practiced ease, but it did nothing to slow her frantic heartbeat. Building up muscle memory had done wonders for her coordination but nothing for her fear. The leaves whispered underfoot, the two men's footfalls barely louder than her own.

She managed a self-deprecating thought; if anything gave them away it would be the bass drum banging away in her ribcage. _Breathe, _she told herself._ Breathe... _

_Tsk._

Cecco flung out an arm suddenly, catching her squarely in the chest and knocking the breath clean out of her. She held perfectly still, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her shallow breathing and waited for the problem to reveal itself. The sound of her heart was deafening in the forest's eerie silence.

Then, just beyond where they were standing, a guard dressed in pale blue landed lightly on the leaf-littered floor, his feet barely making a sound though the velocity of his descent betrayed the height from which he had jumped. Lynn's stance faltered and she closed her eyes praying.

_Please don't see us, please don't see us, please, please-_

He took an eternity to scan the perimeter.

Cecco waited for a moment before signaling with his hand that it was safe to move on. Lynn knew the last rays of light were already filtering away which meant that it would be moments before the animals awoke. The night patrols the scout had mentioned earlier were also a concern; clearly, they were not the only ones who'd planned for the Prince's departure.

The forest was coming alive, buzzing louder with every step they took. _Just a little farther,_ she told herself, hating her unfitness and the way her ragged breaths seemed louder than any of the forest's insects combined, even when they stopped every so often when another guard came into view. _How can you be so weak? _she scolded herself. _Compared to Tom you've gotten off easy! Move it!_ She spurred herself onwards, channeling her fear into anger and helping to keep her mind clear. Her lungs were searing and she wanted to scream with frustration but she maintained her speed.

Eventually their breakneck pace slowed and she could finally make out the clearing just beyond the sparse line of trees. They had made it. Cecco motioned for them to lie down and Lynn took the chance to get her breath back.

Jim began pulling out various items from his sack; a long, sturdy piece of metal bent into a crowbar, a length of rope and- Lynn stifled a gasp- a pistol. Jim pulled out a second, similar looking gun and handed it to Cecco.

She hadn't known they were going to use firearms. Shooting at children, evil guards or not, felt wrong. Still, perhaps the men knew more than she did... Lynn eyed the weapons warily but said nothing

She lay down on her stomach, watching the impressive gnarled tree from where she hid. There were two sentries posted at the door and another circling the perimeter- the one in pastel blue. She could feel the tree's power, how its presence was magnetic yet daunting at the same time, and was struck once again by how much it resembled its owner. Cecco stowed away his gun in the waistband of his trousers then lowered himself carefully onto the ground beside her.

They watched the guards in silence and waited for the signal.

...

John lifted his pickaxe and brought it down harder than he'd meant. He was feeling antsy again.

"Are you ok, John?" asked Michael, worriedly. Even the little boy could feel the anxiety hanging heavy in the air.

"I'm fine Michael, just a little tired is all," he smiled.

They had decided not to tell the younger boys; the fewer chances there were of someone accidentally slipping up, the better. Plus, none of the younger ones would be able to navigate the cave network anyway.

_Out of the southern and main and into the west- _recited John to himself, _-then through the cave and up the air shafts..._

They had made him captain. John had been elated and surprised at first- being a captain was a great honour, especially for one who had been in the mines for so short a time like him- but now he felt like turning to the boys and begging them to take the title back. Responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders as he looked at the silhouettes of the young boys working around him. How could they think he could protect them? He wasn't strong like Miguel, or wise like Sam and he certainly wasn't Tom. He could barely protect his own brother! Frustration and deadly worry tore at him.

After the southern mines (which had been mined out) were blown up the main entrance would blow- which housed the mine shaft lift as well as the pulley system- destroying the mines completely. Hopefully the falling rubble would take some guards out too.

_But not all of them, _whispered the needling voice in his head.

John's mouth turned down as the same worry he had been trying to suppress resurfaced. There was no way the guards would be stupid enough to leave _all _the squads unattended (whichever squad Tom was in would probably be heavily guarded even of the whole cave fell in) and that worried John.

Even though he knew that out of all the squads likely to be left unguarded, his was the best bet, John had seen what the guards could do. He knew how strong they were, how impossible it would be for a boy like him to even dream of overpowering one of them if it came to it. Twenty-three boys, he thought miserably staring at the rock he was pounding. How was he supposed to protect twenty-three boys? His shoulders sagged and he sighed.

Yet, for all his insecurities, the boys had decided that out of the lot of them he was best suited to become the new captain of their squad. He shook his head. True, his squad was the smallest of the four, but twenty was still a lot to keep track of amidst falling rubble and TNT induced earthquakes. John just didn't know how he'd get them all out safely. He bit back a sigh and smiled again when Michael looked up at him questioningly. Mess had been tenser than ever this morning and, for the first time in memory, more than one plate had been still full when the the gong sounded.

John lowered his pickaxe and bent to retrieve the shard of agonite, spying his worried reflection looking back at him in its smooth surface. He tossed it in the cart with a prayer and hoped that against all odds, things would go according to plan.

...

Tom worked in silence, his eyes flicking towards the exit every so often. He was reviewing the plan again.

The western caves had been evacuated a few months ago because of the fumes. Which meant there would be a vent shaft leading directly to the surface. Once they got there, it would be a climb to the top and they were home free- assuming of course that Radmer's calculations had been correct and the whole mine system didn't collapse around their heads. There were other caves that had been aerated, he knew. They were much farther away but hopefully, if the Cap'n and Radmer's explosions kept the guards busy enough, maybe, just maybe, they could make it in time- that is, if they needed to. Tom shook his head of the negative thoughts.

It was getting close to rest time. Any minute now there would be the changing of the guards for dinner after which they would be led to their sleeping quarters. The sleeping wing was in the east: the opposite side of where they wanted to be and coincidentally, where Tom's squad was now. The hollowed out centre running the depth of the mines stood between them and where they need to be. If the blast left the bridge intact that connected the east and western sides, it would be smooth sailing. If not, they would have to skirt the edge of the cave to get to the other side all the while dodging guards and falling rock... He also had to account for the fact some of the boys were so small. Plus he was sure none of them had even considered what they'd do if the bridge gave out. Once they were across, however, they could-

Tom paused. He thought he heard...

The guard in the entryway turned around as the flames flickered in their lamps.

_BOOM!_

The Earth let out a muted roar, shaking glittering dust from the ceiling and sending the boys into panic. Tom's knees wobbled from the impact but he picked up a large rock from the ground and inched towards the guard standing between them and the exit. The guard's hand was tensed on his baton but he had not shifted. Tom crept forwards counting in his head for the next bang. _3...2...1-_

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

Three loud explosions rang out in rapid succession, shaking the walls of their cave. Boys screamed, thrown to floor from the impact, but Tom lunged forwards letting out a yell as he landed on the smaller guard, knocking him out with a solid blow to the head. The walls had not shopped shaking and the Earth's rumbling was growing louder.

"Come on!" he roared above the din.

He hauled the nearest boy to his feet and led them out as quickly as he could.

"Damn!" He swore, throwing his arms out on either side. Boys shrieked as they skidded to a stop watching the crudely made wooden bridge falling away into the void. Tom turned and shoved the nearest boy to his feet "To the side!" He yelled. "To the side!" The earth shook as they ran, sending boys to their knees more often than Tom would have liked. He gritted his teeth and held up the rear, securing Johan who was clinging to his back. Several explosions had gone off in the time it took them to get halfway across, leaping over holes on the path and running half-blind through dust and debris. A deep, resounding crash told Tom the southern mines had just given way.

"Move!" he yelled, pumping his legs furiously.

They were running out of time.

...

Lynn felt the tremor reverberate through her belly and quickly sat up. Cecco and Jim got up as well, their movements controlled and precise, eyes never leaving the guards.

_Boom._

The distant echo of the explosion had the guards leaning forwards but none had moved far enough to give them an opening.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

That did the trick. Two of the boys left to find the source of the explosions while the other remained on guard. Cecco and Jim leapt from the bushes with a yell, startling the guard enough to knock him out with the the butt of their pistols.

"Go!" hissed Jim as he tied up the unconscious boy. Cecco pried the door open with the crowbar and he and Lynn sneaked with without so much as a sound; there were likely to be hundreds of guards crawling around the prince's palace and detection was not part of the plan. Lynn grabbed a torch off the wall and led them down through the narrow turns of the underground maze. Her feet remembered the steps and soon they were at the small wooden door she knew so well.

"In here," she whispered.

Cecco gave a grunt and stuck the crowbar into the crevice. Lynn could feel the feeling of capture drawing ever closer but no matter how hard Cecco tried, the door refused to give way.

He threw the piece of metal down with disgust. He motioned for her to stand back and rammed into the door with his shoulder. The door flew off its hinges with a loud crack, shaking dry earth from the ceiling above. So much for keeping quiet.

Lynn tore into the room, allowing herself a moment to delight in seeing her old friends alive and unharmed. "C'mon," she said urgently, taking hold of Maria's hand. "We don't have much time!"

The girls looked confused, all except for Sonia who had let out a delighted 'Lynn!' upon her appearance, but they followed without complaint.

_Hurry, hurry, hurry, _whispered the ground at her feet as it continued to tremble. _Almost there..._

They rounded the corner-

"Stop and you will not be harmed."

Lynn stopped dead in her tracks causing the girl behind her to crash into her back. The guards' faces were stony as they barred their way. She looked to Cecco who had already stepped forwards.

"In tha' case," he said slowly. "You lot'll be stoppin' here."

...

_"Move it!"_ He yelled. Tom pumped his legs furiously as he dragged the boys behind him forwards. The fine dust in the air was making it difficult to breathe. "Move it or we're _dead!_"

The walls of the cavern rumbled ominously.

All around him boys were scrabbling forwards, pushing their way through the crush of bodies to the partially blocked up entrance. Broken planks of wood hung by single nails as boys streamed past, ducking into one of the many open caverns leading off the entrance to waiting captains and scrambling up the narrow ventilation shafts to safety. The noxious yellow fumes made his eyes water and his lungs burn.

Against all odds his entire squad had made it but that didn't mean everyone would be so lucky. The ceiling beams shook and Tom ducked instinctively as he ran, moving from cavern to cavern, making sure everyone had gotten out safe.

"Is everyone out?" he called.

"Last one!" said Sam, clambering up the shaft after the last member of his squad. "Get outta here Tom!"

Tom nodded and moved on to check the other caves. All of them were almost empty and at last Tom allowed himself to breathe a little easier. He was just about to climb up a shaft himself when he stopped and looked at the boy stationed by it.

Dread pooled in his stomach.

He jumped down and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "You're not- Where's John?" _Please let him be above already._

"He went back!" said the boy, his eyes wide and frantic. "Michael got stuck and he-!"

Tom tore away before he could finish. The Earth was collapsing in on itself in the mines and the noise was like standing in a thunderstorm. He coughed, covering his face to shield himself from the toxic fumes as the support beams creaked and shook free more earth onto his head. The surrounding walls groaned.

There was no way he was leaving without them.

He navigated around the fallen debris, moving as quickly as he could, though he could barely see. There were no more boys running towards him and he closed his eyes against the ones that hadn't been lucky enough to make it out at all.

John and Michael were not dead. They were not dead. They were not-

"John!" he shouted hoarsely. "Michael!"

He rounded the corner, added franticness in his step. They couldn't be far if John had been seen at the shafts. Suddenly he was knocked of his feet as a body running in the opposite direction slammed into him.

"Tom!" Tear tracks cut through the grime on John's face and his hands were cut and bleeding. Tom had never been so relieved in his life, but his relief was short-lived.

Michael was nowhere in sight.

Tom grabbed the boy's shaking shoulders. "Where's Michael?" He yanked the boy to his chest and shielded him as another avalanche of rocks fell.

"I couldn't shift-" John coughed erratically. "A boulder- it f-fell-! There!" He choked, pointing a shaking finger roughly 10 ft away. They looked up as the ceiling reverberated dangerously. "We can't leave him!"

The support beams were shuddering violently; it would not be long before the whole thing collapsed now. Tom pushed the boy in the direction he'd come.

"Go!" he yelled already sprinting away. "I'll take care of it!"

He tore down the crumbling path, keeping his footing as best he could. A loud twang made him skid to a stop: the metal framework of the mine's lift lurched to one side, snapping the support cables that held it in place and making them whiplash wildly. Tom dove to the floor as part of the cave roof fell down behind him, blocking the way to the air shafts- and his only hope of an easy escape.

He got up grimacing at his bloody elbows and broke into a run.

He would return with Michael or not at all.

...

"Go!" commanded Cecco, pushing the girls into the forest behind him even as more guards began to circle.

He'd managed to overpower the guards in the castle but their replacements were already pouring in. Lynn hesitated for a second then turned tail and ran, blood pounding in her ears. "C'mon!" she urged. The girls followed behind her, stumbling over roots and brushing away at the thorny branches that scratched at their faces.

"AAaaeeeiii!"

"Lille!" yelled Colette, turning to see her sister struggling within a guard's grasp. _Where are all these guards coming from?_ thought Lynn desperately. Ada tried to prise his fingers open but he grabbed and twisted her wrist as well, causing her to shriek in pain.

A man launched himself out of the bushes and slammed into the guard's back. "Oh no you don't," he growled. The guard yelped as he fell, releasing the girls.

"Radmer!" Lynn had never been happier to see him in her life.

"I'll hold them off," he said, pinning the struggling guard down with his weight. "Go!"

_Them? _But Lynn had no time to think as her feet moved on auto-pilot, grabbing hold of Ada and Lille before turning around and heading once more, back to the docks. They needed to get out of the forest and they needed to do it now.

They ran blindly through the forest, the full moon hidden by the clouds. Twigs pulled at her hair, freeing it from its bun. Sounds of fist fights surrounded them as they dodged and weaved between their attackers and saviours who urged them to keep moving, jumping out from behind the trees like animals of the forest themselves.

Lynn closed her eyes to it all; the way the child guards suddenly seemed more animal than human, their teeth drawing blood wherever and whenever they bit down; the way people she knew were allowing themselves to get hurt so she could get away unharmed; she ignored the screams and shouts that circled her as she ran, the terrified thoughts surrounding Tom and her brothers, the way the Earth had still not stopped shaking...

"A little further Maria," she said desperately. "Just a little further."

She dragged her legs past the final fallen tree trunk and was relieved to notice the tree cover becoming thinner. Sand trickled in between clumps of grass and finally they broke free of the suffocating forest all together. The sound of hundreds of running feet tempted her to look around but only when the ocean was in her sights did she allow herself that luxury. They were children, at least a hundred of them, all of them boys, streaming out of the forest in a dusty stream of bodies.

Her throat tightened with fear as she began scanning for any sight of Tom or her brothers but there were too many faces and none of them clear enough to recognise. She led Maria and the girls up the wooden ramp to the ship, making sure they were safely on board before running to find Barty. The full moon had brought out the full force of the waves and the boat bucked and heaved even in its dock.

She pulled a stray strand of hair out of her mouth. Barty would know if Tom had made it back or not.

Boys were still clambering onto the deck of the ship, scared and shivering. Most had escaped with minor cuts and bruises but those injured more seriously and were sent down to the hold. The rest were huddled on the main deck in knots of four or five, clothes ragged and torn, looking up at the crew as though unsure what they'd run into was any better than what they'd escaped. None of the frightened faces looked familiar to her.

"Have you seen Barty?" she asked, bumping into a vaguely familiar face.

"Sorry lass," he said distractedly. There were just too many people running around.

"Lynn!" shouted the captain. "Hand these out."

"Yes Captain," she said, rushing to where he was and gathering the bundle of blankets to her chest. There were boys piling onto the ship even as she moved. Tom probably hadn't boarded yet. She squashed down her anxiety and went from group to group distributing the blankets, offering a kind smile and a few encouraging words. It squeezed her heart, seeing them all so thin. They looked so young. It made her want to gather them all up in her arms and shield them from world.

"Lynn?"

"Barty!" She smiled, hope bubbling in her chest at the guardedly cheerful look on his face. "Have you seen Tom?"

"Can't say I have," he said carefully. The smile died on her lips. "Now, don't look so sad. Our Tom's a strong lad, he'll come through." Lynn allowed herself to be led, barely feeling the weight of Barty's hand clamped on her shoulder. "But," It was the significant pause in his words that made her look up, "there's someone I think you'll be just as happy to see again."

He guided her down the steps to the hold, navigating through the mess of bloodied people and stray rolls of bandages. Lynn was beginning to feel a little nauseous and the hope came more cautiously this time.

"Hank?" said Barty as he pushed aside the curtain sectioning of this corner of the room. "Think you could spare me a minute?"

The man turned around and stood up, blocking his patient out of view. Lynn leaned forward. "Aye I'm finished here anyway. He's a strong 'un." He turned back to his patient. "Ain't that right, John?"

Lynn gasped, barely believing her ears and ignoring the painful hope crushing her heart. She pushed past the makeshift doctor to see her baby brother looking for all his wounds like a young man. Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him, shock written all over John's face.

"Lynn," he breathed, his tone disbelieving even as her chestnut hair floated around him like a cloud.

"Oh John," she said, finally pulling back to touch his face and ascertain that he was really there. "Are you alright?" She fussed with his hair and checked for any injuries Hank might have missed. "Have you eaten? Do you need water? Do you hurt anywhere else? If you do, tell me and I'll call-"

"I'm fine, Lynn," he said with a weak smile. He lifted up his bandaged arm. "Just the sprain. And my glasses," he added.

"Well thank goodness," she said with a relieved smile; she'd seen some legs being amputated on her way in. "I was so worried about you." She looked around suddenly. "Where's Michael?" John's face immediately crumpled.

Dread welled up inside her and the hand on his arm began to quiver.

"John, where's Michael?"

John shook his head, tears falling fast and thick on his lap as his shoulders heaved. Lynn felt her knees go weak.

"I couldn't s-save him, L-lynn," he sobbed. "I was supposed to be hi- his big b-brother and I couldn't save him! Even when-" The words caught in his throat and she gathered him to her chest, the combined weight his of guilt and grief too much for him. She rocked him in her arms while he howled his regrets into her chest. Their littlest brother, the ball of sunshine of the Darling household- she'd never see his big blue eyes insisting for another story or the stubborn way he folded his arms when she refused pick him up, even though he was too old for it- gone. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Little Michael. De-

But John was still here, she reminded herself, feeling every one of his shuddering breaths shudder through her as well. John was still here and she needed to be strong for him. She wiped at her tears and rocked him until his breathing stopped coming out in gasps.

"I'm sorry, Lynn," croaked John, wiping his eyes as he sat up.

"It is not your fault." He looked at her miserably, the beginnings of fresh tears in his eyes. "It is _not_, John Darling," she said firmly even though tears threatened her own.

He shook his head and the tears flowed anyway. "But it is," he whimpered. "It- I- When I left Mich-Micheal-" Lynn closed her eyes against the tears. "-I went to look for help, even though almost everyone had left. I was about to turn around-" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "The mine was collapsing, the ceiling was f-falling in... But he was there- t-telling me to go, that he would save M-Michael; that he'd take care of it." He gulped and shame coloured John's voice as he looked down. "So I went. I was so scared, Lynn. My arm was already swelling and I couldn't breathe- a-and as soon as I got out... the cave collapsed." Lynn went cold. "If I had just pushed harder, if I-"

"Who was it?" she said after a minute to distract herself, sending a grateful prayer for the boy who'd gone back for her baby brother. "Who was still there?"

John mumbled the name against her stomach.

_"Tom."_

She felt she'd been punched.

...

Lynn stood motionless on the forecastle deck.

The moonlight cast silver shadows on the rippling sea and the slight breeze whipped errant strands into her face. The Captain had granted her five more minutes but any more and they would be putting themselves in danger. Her eyes, glassy and unblinking, looked out across the sandy shoreline to the line of trees beyond.

"Lynn?"

Lynn started, turning around to see Penelope there standing nervously with Ada by her side. Lynn cleared her throat but it was still too raw to be raised above a whisper. She tried for a smile instead. "What is it, Pen?"

Penelope looked stricken. "I- uhm-. Well, you see-"

"We wanted to know how it was you knew our names." said Ada gently, taking Penelope's arm. "But I am sorry, we did not mean to intrude on your grief."

Lynn's throat grew tight, barely taking in the first part of Ada's speech. That was what she was doing, wasn't it? Grieving. You only grieved for the dead.

"Thank you for freeing us," said Ada. Penelope gave Lynn another apologetic smile and the two quickly moved away.

"It is not their fault," said Sonia, stepping towards her.

What was she talking about? Of course it wasn't their fault Tom and Michael were-

"They do not remember you," she explained slowly when Lynn still looked confused. Sonia launched into the details of what had happened since Lynn had last seen them; the desolation; how the Prince began wiping their memories one by one; how she was the only one left... At the end of the tale Lynn enveloped the girl into a hug but found herself struggling to sympathize.

"I'm sorry," she said feebly.

"It is in the past."

The two talked for a while but Lynn found herself missing more and more words till eventually Sonia's voice blended into a faint hum. Before she realised it, her gaze once again strayed to the line of trees beyond the beach. Tears pooled in her red-rimmed eyes as her memories taunted her the way they had been for hours.

_'Promise me you'll come back, Tom. Promise __me you will...!'_

**You're wasting everyone's time.**

_'I can't promise you tha', Lynn...'_

**Stop looking already.**

_'I'll do the best I can, alrigh'?_

**You won't find him.**

_'I promise...''_

**He's dead.**

She closed her eyes and her heart against the word she still could not believe was true.

"It will not hurt so much, in time."

Lynn started, forcing her eyes open. "What?"

Sonia shook her head. "You do not need to smile for me when your heart is crying."

Lynn turned away and let the smile slip knowing she had been found out. She had been studiously avoiding everyone since she'd found out, deliberately keeping herself too busy to talk. Hank's pity was insufferable and Barty's constant hopefulness almost just as bad. Even the reunion between Rob and his brother, Sam, could not coax a smile out of her.

"I will be in the hold if you need me," said Sonia, squeezing Lynn's arm before she left.

The last of the men were returning and she knew it would soon be time to leave. It was over. She had to let it go. She had John and he was enough- he had to be. Besides, if she stayed up here she might be tempted to jump off the ship and swim to the shore herself...

"Sonia wait!" The Russian paused and turned.

Lynn resolutely turned her back to the forest, even though her neck strained with the effort. She took a deep breath and Sonia looked at her patiently.

"I think...I-I'll come with you."

...

There was definitely still work to be done. Rob had set her to work as soon as she walked in. Lynn forced herself not to count down the seconds before they had to leave, fetching pails of clean water and fresh bandages to keep herself busy. With all the commotion she wouldn't even be able to tell if they were moving or not...

"Its alright, its alright," she soothed, cleaning the cut as quickly as she could. "I need you to be a brave boy for me, ok? This might sting a little..." The boy bit his lip, wincing as she dabbed the salve onto his knee. "There we go," she murmured wrapping it tight. She wiped the tear from his cheek and smoothed his hair back with a tremulous smile. It was difficult not to see Michael's little face in any blonde boy she treated. "Why don't you go see if Barty has anything for you to munch on?"

He nodded and scampered off obediently while Lynn turned to her next patient.

"Now, show me where it-"

"Princess!"

Lynn and the young boy looked up. "Rob?"

But he just shook his head and pulled her up out of her seat. Apparently words would not suffice and the man pulled her up from her seat dragging her up the steps to the main deck above. She had never seen him so excited. "Rob, what is going on?"

There was a knot of people in the middle of the deck. The ship pulled away from the dock and Lynn felt her stomach sink. She wobbled as she inched closer. Everyone was there. Everyone. Sam, Cecco, Marcus, Aesop... all of them smiling at her as they crowded around someone or something in the middle of the ring. Her jaw trembled. Why were they smiling at her?

Then the man blocking her view turned around and the hope was so painful it almost burned a hole in her throat.

"Didn' ah tell ye', lass?" said Barty, tears in his eyes. "Didn' ah tell ye our Tom was a strong 'un?" The hidden answering chuckle was enough to make her knees go weak. Lynn stood speechless. Her trembling hand reached up to cover her mouth as Barty moved out of the way and the tears slipped from her lashes.

There he sat, more real than any of her imaginations, the bashful grin she remembered so well securely in place.

"'Lo, Lynn," he said hoarsely.

She sank to her knees.

_"Tom."_

She didn't care that half the crew was watching, didn't care that he stank of sulphur or that her tears were transferring grimy streaks onto her face, and she buried her face in the front of his shirt and cried for all she was worth. His heart was thumping out a message loud and clear, one she never thought she'd hear again, and everything else could wait.

Tom was startled at first, hands fluttering at her sides like he didn't know where to put them. The men laughed at the scene, tears shining in their own eyes. They shook their heads, patting his back or ruffling his hair, all of them needing to touch the boy who willingly returned to the mines to save them all.

Lynn pulled back, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"You alrigh'?" asked Tom uncertainly, his boyish face concerned but smiling nonetheless.

Lynn shook her head with a smile; here he was looking like he'd gone to hell and back and he was asking if _she_ was ok. Her heart was full to bursting with feelings for this boy.

"I'm just glad you're back, Tom," she said, throwing her arms around him. "I'm just really, _really_ glad."

...

Lynn sat quietly in the corner, watching as Rob checked Tom for injuries.

She'd cried when she saw Michael. Thanks to Tom (who'd apparently 'carried him piggyback the whole way') he'd escaped with just the leg injury and a few minor cuts and bruises. He'd clung to her even while Hank checked his injuries and she peppered his little face with kisses, smoothing his hair and murmuring soothing things in his ear when the pain got too much. Her brave little baby brother. His cough was a little worse than the ones she'd heard but Hank assured her it was nothing to worry about. John was sitting with him now waiting for him to wake up from whatever medicines Hank had given him.

"Does tha' hurt?" asked Hank, pressing two fingers on the ribs just below Tom's heart. Tom immediately hissed, his body recoiling from the touch. Lynn paled. "Tha' adds broken ribs to the list. Right, arms up." Tom breathed out slowly and raised his bandaged arms. Hank rubbed a cooling ointment to help with the pain and wrapped him up nice and tight. He nodded with satisfaction and moved to put away his medicines. "You need to rest, y'hear?" he said over his shoulder. "Any funny business and I'll have you strapped to yer bed."

"Aye, aye Cap'n," said Tom grinning as he pulled a shirt over his head and jumped off the bed.

"Tom!"

If Lynn hadn't caught him he would've fallen flat on his face.

"Fool boy," growled Hank, supporting him on the other side. "What part o' swollen ankle' didn' you understand?" Tom grinned, chastised and shifted his weight till he was standing upright.

"See? Right as rain."

"Make sure he keeps his weight off that," muttered Hank to Lynn. "I'll see if I can throw together a crutch."

"Aww, but I've got a perfectly good crutch here," said Tom, winking at Lynn's pale face.

Lynn shook her head with a reluctant smile and pulled his arm around her shoulders. She navigated them through the crowded space, stopping every now and then as boys and men alike stopped to hug or shake hands with Tom. Just his presence in the sick room seemed to cheer the air.

"Where are we going?" asked Tom as they hobbled forwards.

"Up on deck," said Lynn keeping her eyes trained on the ground to avoid tripping. "Rob said it would do your lungs good." Right on cue Tom coughed, gravelly and low. It was not a healthy sound.

"C'mon, Lynn, stop lookin' at me like I'm about to fall apart a' any second," he said, bumping her with his hip. "I'm fine."

But she could only shake her head with a weak smile as she helped him hobble up the steps. He waved to the boys sitting around them with a smile. She settled him on a low crate in a semi- secluded spot on the deck to and arranged the blanket Rob had given them around his shoulders.

"Lynn."

She ignored him and fussed with his bandaged foot, pulling off the shawl around her shoulders to use it as a support pillow.

"Lynn."

She heard the faint note of annoyance but she paid no heed and instead checked and re-checked his bandages, making sure none of them needed to be changed in the five minutes they'd been on.

"Lynn," he said finally trapping her hands in his own calloused ones. "I'm fine. Stop fussin' like a mother hen." She heard the teasing but only nodded and pulled her hands back in her lap. She could feel him watching her but she couldn't look up.

Finally he sighed. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes flew to his face. "For what?"

"Michael," he explained, eyes downcast with regret. "I know I said I'd get them out but I still couldn't get to him in time-"

"What are you talking about?" said Lynn, eyes wide. "You saved Michael, of course you got to him in time."

He grimaced. "Yeah, but his legs are all mashed up and Hank was sayin' it'd be ages before he could walk again..." he trailed off and Lynn could only stare, mouth agape.

"Are you serious?"

Tom turned away and she shook his shoulder. "Stop it!" she said almost angrily. "How can you even think its your fault? You _saved_ him Tom. If it hadn't been for you Michael would be d-ead." Her voice faltered on the last word.

"Alrigh'." He said after a pause. He rubbed his neck and smiled at her, which made him grimace because it was pulling at the cut on his cheek. Lynn looked away and heard him sigh.

"Go on," he said after a pause. "Can't have you tending an invalid like me with so much t'do," he resignedly.

"You're not an invalid," she said. "Besides, I have strict orders to keep an eye on you, remember?" She meant it teasingly but his eyes grew stormy at her words. "What's the matter?"

"Nothin'," he said sullenly.

"It's not nothing," she insisted.

"Look, y'don't hafta baby me, ok?" He exploded. "I can take care o'myself!" He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly before looking up. "Aw, don't look at me like tha'," he said, sounding almost guilty. "I never asked fer you to look after me."

What was he talking about?

"I heard what Hank said but he ain't the Cap'n so, technic'lly, his orders are more like suggestions..."

"What on earth are you talking about, Tom?" He was rambling and she was getting more and more bewildered by the second.

His answering look was just short of scathing. "Well, seeing as you can barely stand to _look_ at me, I'd say of the two of us, yer definitely the unhappy one." His tone was bordering sarcastic and it was annoying her. Not to mention he was completely wrong.

"I'm perfectly happy, thank you very much," she said folding her arms stiffly.

"Oh yeah?" countered Tom.

"Yes."

"Prove it."

He was really beginning to get on her nerves. She bared her teeth in his direction. "See, I'm smiling. Happy."

"Hah." He scoffed. "Then answer me this, how come your face screws up ev'ry time it's pointed in my direction?"

She stiffened. "Because you're injured."

"So?"

"So..."

"So, _what_?"

"_So I don't like looking at you on death's door!"_

Tears sprung to her eyes and she swiped them away. If she started crying now she was never going to stop. She could feel his eyes on her face.

"You've got some explainin' t'do, Lynn Darling," he said quietly after she'd gotten her breath back.

She stared resolutely at her hands. "I- Look," she glanced at his face and looked down again. "Look," she said hurriedly. "I just can't look at you, alright?"

"That's-"

"I _can't._" She was imploring him to understand. She looked up, saw his swollen eye, lasted all of four seconds and looked down again, twisting her hands in her lap. "Not like this," she added quietly. Why couldn't he just understand?

"Hmm," said Tom reaching for her hand. "I think I'm beginnin' to see what yer sayin'." He didn't say anything after that, choosing to play with her fingers instead until it became impossible for her not to look up and know what he was thinking.

"I gotta admit," he said, intertwining her fingers with his. "It's hard to come back from prison an' find yer best friend can' even stand t'_look_ at ye."

He said it with a smile and a twinkle in his eye to show he was joking but it made Lynn tear up anyway.

"I c-can look at you," she said through her sniffles. She didn't have to see him to know what he thought of that; even his _silence_ sounded amused. "I can," she protested.

She lasted six seconds this time.

"Fine," she grumbled as he chuckled. "So I can't. But its not because I can't stand you or anything ridiculous like that." Honestly, how could he even think that?

He brought a finger beneath her chin and turned her face to look at him. The pressure was gentle and she could have pulled away if she'd wanted, but she didn't.

"What if I wore an eyepatch? Like a 'real pirate', eh?" He was teasing her.

His constant cheerfulness of his was going to be her undoing. She clenched her teeth and pulled away.

"It's not just that," she said quietly. "You don't just have a black eye, Tom."

She swallowed and raised a trembling hand to trace the bruise at the base of his jaw and the cuts sliced into his cheeks. "Bloodied and bruised..." Her fingers moved to bandaged ankle. "Barely walking..." She rested a hand on his chest. Though he tried to hide it his breath was still coming out in shallow pants. "Barely breathing..." She pulled away. "You need more than an eyepatch," she said quietly.

His injuries were severe and there were probably a few she'd missed. Who knew how long it'd be before the got proper medical attention for him? What if they didn't get to the village or whatever it was, in time? Worry was making her irrational but she couldn't help it.

"Yer right," he said suddenly, startling her. "Yer _absolutely_ right." She looked at him curiously. "In fact, I know exactly wha' I need."

"What?" she asked.

"-A sandwich."

"A what?" she laughed.

"Yep. I'm famished. So why don't you run along lika a good little nurse an' get me somethin' t'eat."

"Silly boy." She swatted his arm, laughing when she saw he was serious. "But I'll see what I can do about that sandwich." Tom put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, waving her away with a hand. Lynn turned with a smile. Silly boy.

...

Tom watched her out of the corner of his eye till she was out of sight before letting himself sag against the wood. It was nice to know she was worried about him but the truth was he ached _everywhere_. He leaned forward to prod his ankle but stopped with a hiss as his already injured ribs- now properly broken- screamed in protest. _Damn guards_. He flexed his legs toes and with the exception of his ankle they seemed to be working fine. He checked his other injuries, pausing every other minute just to catch his breath.

He'd hidden it as best he could from Lynn but just hobbling up the steps onto the deck had damned near killed him; if she hadn't been holding him up he probably would have collapsed on the deck. He rubbed his too-tight chest. The dust had gotten into his lungs and according to Rob he'd be wheezing till he got it all out. He sighed- which made him cough. Not that he wasn't just glad to be alive, but boy was it frustrating.

...

"Here," she said softly, startling him out his light doze.

He blinked awake and smiled. "Thanks." He watched her watching him as he ate. "You're doing it again."

She tore her eyes away from the bloody bandages and looked at his face, fighting to keep her expression relaxed. "Doing what?"

"Lookin' at me like I'm gonna drop dead any minute."

"Don't say that," she choked. "Don't say things like that, Tom."

He paused mid-bite. "Hey," he said. "Hey, I was kiddin', Lynn." Her bottom lip quivered dangerously. He put the bread down. "Lynn?"

She shook her head, tears falling thick and fast. "I really did think you were d-dead, you know." He had no idea where this was coming from. Wasn't she ok just a minute ago? He didn't know what to do.

"You're not dead and you're going to get better," she said, suddenly fierce.

He nodded quickly at her proclamation. "'Course I am."

But obviously he'd said something wrong because she satrted crying harder than ever.

"Then why-" She stopped and tried again. "Then why does it feel like you're n-not?" She looked into his face, searching for something- what?

He smiled hesitantly. "Lynn?"

Whatever it was it wasn't that.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed into her hands. "I-I'm sorry-"

"It's alrigh'," he said awkwardly, rubbing her arm.

"I just... you know how I said I thought you were d-dead?" Her face shone with tears and her expression so entreating Tom could only nod. "I- well, sometimes I-" She choked and shook her head again. He forced himself to wait, to see if she'd calm down on her own, even though he wanted nothing more than to kill whatever was hurting her. She sobbed, shoulders heaving, breath coming in hiccups, her beautiful green eyes clouded with tears. He waited a minute more before he decided he'd had enough.

"C'mere," he said pulling her into his arms. She resisted at first but he was stronger and he tucked her against his chest, ignoring his cracked ribs which suddenly didn't bother him as much. She shook and shuddered in his hold, hands fisting lightly against his shirt. He shushed her and petted her hair, but the sound of her broken sobbing brought back the nightmares he'd had to endure and he tightened his hold around her daring anyone to take her away from him.

"T-tom?" she mumbled against his shirt.

"Yeah?"

"You're real, aren't you?"

"What?" He really had no idea which was her mind was running anymore. "'Course I'm real, Lynn... Could hardly be holdin' you like this if I weren't," he added.

Not that he minded- Lynn wasn't exactly heavy or anything, and he didn't mind her sitting on his lap- he was just pointing it out, was all. She blushed to the roots of her hair (as he'd known she would) and Tom fought to hide his smile.

"I- er- Maybe I should-" Lynn fidgeted, hastily wiping her eyes.

But she wasn't getting away that easily. Tom held her fast rendering her struggles futile. He had some things he needed to say.

"Listen to me," he said, forcing her to look at him "I am alive an' I going to stay that way, y'hear?" She didn't look convinced so he placed her hand over his heart.

"Feel tha'?" She nodded uncertainly. "Tha's your proof. So no more talk of dyin'-" she winced- "or anythin' like that, alrigh'?"

She sighed and looked up at him reluctantly.

"Alright."

Her gloominess was getting him down. If she didn't smile soon _he_ was going to start grousing sbout his injuries- and no one liked a whiny patient.

"You, Miss Lynn, are actin' far too serious for my liking."

"I'm sorry, but-" Lynn stopped and began inching backwards as she took in his frown and impish grin. His fingers twitched by her sides. "What are you..."

"Gotcha!"

Lynn shrieked, "Tom!" His fingers roamed up and down her sides tickling her mercilessly. He learned that Lynn was in fact, very, _very_ ticklish.

He leaned over her grinning, his nimble hands moving to tickle somewhere else before she could catch them. "Still think I'm not real?"

"Stop!" Tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks. "I- I can't breathe!"

She was laughing so hard she'd almost rolled the both of them over but Tom wasn't going to stop just yet. "I want you to say it," he said evilly.

"You're real! You're real!"

He grinned down at her and tickled her for a few minutes more before helping her sit up. "Glad we got tha' settled."

She crossed her arms and 'humphed'. "You're terrible," she puffed. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy but there wasn't a sad tear in sight. Her green eyes were crinkled in the corners with annoyance at him but her reluctant smile gave her away.

Tom felt better just looking at her.

As he took her in, red-faced and still breathing heavily, Tom couldn't help the wave of happiness growing inside of him. She was kind and brave and the prettiest girl he'd ever seen in his life, and Tom realised he cared for her more than he knew how to show.

Or maybe he did.

She peered up at him through her thick, dark lashes and Tom suddenly forgot how to speak.

"Tom?"

He raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and cleared his throat nervously. "Just another somethin' to prove this is all real."

Lynn's blush deepened at his touch but she nodded soundlessly. Her green eyes widened when his hand moved to her cheek and stayed there. She had the prettiest eyes he decided. His heartbeat hammered loudly in his ears and he scanned her face for any sign or hesitance, any sign of reluctance-

He leaned forward.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

All he could see was her smile, her lips-

"HIT THE DECK!"

Their eyes snapped open, shock mirrored in blue and green. Then the boat heaved and a huge wave crashed over the rails, drowning them in a torrent of seawater that threatened to throw them overboard.

Lynn raised her head choking and spluttering.

"Tom!"

She cried out as the boat lurched again, throwing her off balance and sending her crashing into him. She slammed forwards into his chest, both of them sliding sideways even as he grabbed hold of the railing, his other arm securing her to him. She clung to his chest as the water surged around them. Sails whipped wildly in the sudden storm.

"Lynn! Are you alrigh'?" His wide blue eyes were frantic but she nodded, pushing salty strands of her hair out of her eyes.

"I'm fine," she coughed.

"We have to get off the deck." He glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky and swore. "Hells teeth-"

The boat rocked violently forcing them to crouch to keep their balance. They took a step towards the stairs but Tom sagged.

Lynn threw his arm around her shoulders and gripped his waist, holding him up as best she could. "Your ankle!" He grimaced but pulled them forwards, determined to get them below deck. She heard Tom swear again but her gaze was drawn upward, above the sails and through gap in the storm clouds that had appeared as suddenly as the storm itself...

Silhouetted against the pale moon, surrounded by inky black storm clouds, was a fallen angel. Even as she stumbled forwards Lynn could not look away from the anger and accusation in those eyes.

She watched the figure raised his arms and another tidal wave crashed mercilessly upon the deck sending them sprawling.

"Lynn!"

She felt the water enter her lungs but only one thought was clear:

The Prince had returned.

...

* * *

A/N: To those of you who haven't forsaken me for being such a horrible person with the non-existant updates- I DON'T DESERVE YOU AT ALL ;_;

(Life updates and reasons why the new chapter is taking so bloody long on my profile~ )


	25. War, an interlude

A/n: I am evil; I accept that. I am also deeply apologetic. 3/5/2012

* * *

_The Prince picked out the soft chimes of her voice and the silver tinkle of her laugh. She turned and her eyes gleamed up at him, taunting him, like emeralds at the bottom of the ocean. How dare they steal her from him! How dare they steal something so rightfully his! _

_Anger roiled through him, agitating his fragile soul with the force of his ire, like hot coals tossed in the winds of hell. He watched as one of the thieves forced her onto his lap, trapping her hands, forcing her to look up at him... _

_Insolent cur._

_Remorseless, he lifted his arms and brought his wrath down on the tiny ship._

* * *

The seawater burned Lynn's lungs as she breathed in more liquid than air. Water swirled around her knees and still more crashed down on them.

"Fire!" roared Marcus.

Lynn felt the roar of lit gunpowder shuddered through her as cannon balls sailed into the sky with a trail of smoke. The salt stung her eyes and her vision blurred with tears but she looked up to see if they would hit their mark: the iron balls arced into the sky- but were swallowed by another monstrous wave.

She fought down her rising panic. None of their attacks were working.

"Move those crates!"

"-Gunpowder, man! We need gunpowder!"

John held Michael tight and scooted them back on the bed so their feet wouldn't dangle in the knee-deep water flooding the hold.

"Oi! Lad!" John's head whipped around at the call. "Give us a hand here!"

John avoided Michael's pale, pleading face as he reluctantly unwound the small arms wrapped around his waist. "I have to go-"

"No!" cried little Michael, clinging all the harder. "You promised you'd stay with me!"

The boards in the ceiling shook as the boat took another beating. John swayed as he stood up and Michael began to cry.

"The lad's injured!" yelled Hank. "Leave him be!" He pushed John back down on the bed and stormed past him. "Seamus! Get off yer arse an' help!"

John scooted backwards quickly pulling Michael into his lap with his good arm; he would not risk Michael being roped in to help too.

* * *

The storm clouds stirred behind him as the winds howled their remorse but the Prince knew nought but deathly silence. Winds whipped around his slender form yet he remained untouched.

He did not blink as he deflected their flimsy nets and too-small cannon balls, raising his hands to make the winds pick up speed and tossing their already out-of-control boat into a greater frenzy. A bolt of lightning struck the topmast, setting it alight, and the thieves scurried on their tiny deck like drowned rats.

Pests needed to be exterminated, especially ones as insolent as these. His eyes flashed and his expression was blacker than any darkness.

_It was time to end this._

* * *

"Hold on, Lynn!" cried Tom.

Everywhere he turned there was another wave waiting to try and drown them. He hobbled towards where he thought the hold was but between the murderous seawater and his semi-lame leg, walking had never been a more impossible task.

Choking more than breathing, he hauled Lynn up as best he could and lurched forward. All around them men clung to their lifelines, swarming across the mast and deck, tying down the sails and firing cannons. He could feel her small arms grasping at his waist but he could barely keep himself up, let alone her.

Tom staggered as another barrage of water slammed into to him. He gasped, his already fractured ribs making contact with the guardrail behind him, giving entry to the seawater so eagerly trying to drown him. He felt the grip on his side falter. The water subsided and Tom swiped the water out of his eyes.

_No-_

Lynn was gone.

"LYNN!" He roared, his voice raw with panic. He whipped his head from side to side scanning the deck for her. "LYNN! LY-"

He fell backwards and tripped. Hands grabbed him from behind, dragging him towards the safer confines below deck. "Get down!"

"NO!" He roared.

He tore free and stumbled forwards.

"Have you seen, Lynn?" He asked. The man turned without hearing and his voice came out in gasps. "Lynn? Lynn!" But the thunder too loud in anyone's ears to hear his desperate pleas for a single girl.

Tom managed one last look across the deck before his legs gave way under him and he slid to the ground, his injuries finally outriding the wave of adrenaline that had kept him upright. One of the men eventually came over and hauled him to his feet. Tom's ribs felt so broken he wouldn't have been surprised if he saw his heart falling out. Wind whipped his hair and he closed his eyes in regret as he limped towards the hold. So much for being a hero...

He lifted his head. "What was that?"

"I didn't hear nothing."

An inhuman scream tore through the air, freezing them in their tracks. Tom looked up with the sound still ringing in his eardrums.

The demon, perfectly silhouetted against the full moon, was arched backwards emitting a ghostly wail that echoed into the night. The crew watched, transfixed, even as the sea erupted into waves around them and lightning sliced the sky. Dark clouds drifted across the moon and the demon disappeared into the shadows.

"Hold your fire," Marcus said lowly, breaking the spell.

The men shook their heads as though clearing water and scanned the skies, others hurrying to restock their cannons. Something was coming…they just didn't know what.

_Tick-_

_Tick-_

_TickTickTick-_

_SLAM!_

The boat heaved violently to the side, knocking them off balance and sending Tom sprawling.

"What was that?"

_SLAM!_

"Aargh!"

Tom's fingers scrabbled for purchase before he managed to wrap his arm around one of the railings to keep from being thrown overboard. The ship pitched dangerously. He looked over the side and saw something huge- something _directly under the ship_- throwing itself against the side of the ship.

_SLAM!_

It was trying to break through the hull.

"Aaahh-!

"Secure the barrels- they're the last of our firepower!"

The men were beginning to panic, firing at will. "We can't fight against something we can't see!"

"What' is it?"

"Did we hit it?"

"We need to turn around!"

But the winds were against them and they battered against their loose sails, forcing them back towards the beach. The captain swore. "Tie up those sails!"

The creature rammed itself against the side of the ship and the men cried out as a bolt of lightning zipped through the air, striking it in the same spot it had before. Tom looked up from the shelter of his arms.

"Cap'n! The mast-!"

"Watch out!"

The blazing skeleton of the ship's mast crashed down onto the deck, taking with it all four of their sails and their only means of escaping.

Then, the monster erupted out of the ocean and sending the little ship spinning out of control in it's wake. Rain and wind slashed at Tom's sight but the sky was alive with electricity and fear and there was nothing he could not see.

Two huge, scaled feet with curved talons as long as his arm settled itself on the side of the deck, nearly capsizing the ship with its weight. The men fired at it but their lead and iron slid off the armoured skin like silk. An eye, as yellow as the sun and as wide as three men, peered over the edge of the deck. A distant rumble, a roar, came from deep within the bowels of the beast as its great reptilian eye perused the ship. Tom had long forgotten how to breathe. Almost lazily, the saurian eye scanned them, landing on each of them briefly before moving on. Then the horizontal slit of pupil froze, widened, and the rumble intensified, and the ticking got so loud it felt like a bomb was set to go off in their heads.

Marcus gripped the helm with both hands, the serpentine eye never leaving his face. He opened his mouth, whether to issue a command or utter a prayer, the crew would never know, because at that moment the monster decided its move.

And their world went to hell.

-.-.-.-

_Teeth, _Tom would realise later as he clung to the fragmented remains of the ship. _Claws and clicking teeth- that was what the ticking noise was. _He tried to pull himself up onto the charred plank, to get himself more secure but his measly strength was fading fast- he felt like _he_ was fading.

His fingers faltered as his mind slipped, managing one last coherent thought before the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him.

_Well, at least Lynn didn't have to go through that..._

* * *

**A/N:** A thousand apologies, my poor (probably non-existent) readers. I will try to make the final chapter less awful. I spent ages trying to write this part and was getting nowhere. So I put some dramatic music on- and still didn't get anywhere, but I figured a short, crappy update was better than no update at all. Right? MOVING ON NOW.


	26. The Denouement

_A/N: I've outdone myself with this one- 11,476 words. Took me long enough... 31/5/2012_

* * *

_The prince smoothed back the tendrils of hair matted to her forehead and laid the newly damp cloth across it._

_He pulled back the covers to check the small bruises dotting her shoulder and arm. She murmured something in her sleep and his hand immediately stilled on her wrist, watching her closely for any sign of consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered briefly, as they had these past three days, before settling again on colourless cheeks._

_He passed a hand over his brow. It had been three days since he had gotten his precious one back. His fist convulsed furiously where it lay on her bed. Three days since he had unleashed his anger on those who had dared take her from him... and she had not awoken since._

Wake up,_ he ordered silently, raising her hand to lips that trembled imperceptibly- traitorously. _Please, wake up…

...

* * *

She was dead. She had to be.

Her head felt like sledgehammers were dancing on it. She groaned and raised a hand to her forehead. A towel? She pried her eyes open with difficulty. The room was dark and unfamiliar and the bed much too big to feel right. Her fingers brushed silk sheets covered by something much heavier, like fur. Lynn felt the first stirrings of unease creep into her stomach. _Where am I? _She tried to sit up and shooting pains surged down her left leg; panic set in as snatches of her memory began to return._ Tom! The ship-! Were they safe? What happened? Where -_

_Calm down,_ she told herself crossly taking a few deep breaths. _You're getting all worked up for nothing. For all you know you're in some kindly person's bedroom on that island Marcus pointed out. A very rich person,_ she added worriedly, her fingers brushing against the heavy furs. She looked around the room again but could not make out much from the dim glow of her bedside candle.

"Hello?" she ventured. "Is anybody there?"

"Do not move."

Her body froze instinctively. Her eyes burned with tears waiting to be shed as her thoughts spiralled out of control. That voice could mean only one thing and the knowledge of it settled like poison in the pit of Lynn's stomach. She felt sick.

She watched with wide eyes as the prince approached, her heart rate skyrocketing, the oil lamps lighting themselves as he passed. Fear coiled in her gut but the prince's blue eyes never left her. He stopped at the foot of her- no, _his_- bed.

She cleared her throat, swallowing the lump as best she could. "What's wrong with my leg?" she whispered. Easy questions first.

"The left is fractured." He stood by the foot of her bed, eyes betraying nothing, face curiously unmasked. "I have bound it but it will be a while before you can walk without pain."

She nodded automatically. Nothing was making sense; if she had been captured, why was he being so nice to her? The prince wrapped his hand around the bedpost and for a frightening second she thought he meant to move closer- to sit on the bed even- but he didn't.

"You are weak still," he said. "I will leave you to rest."

She shook her head and his footsteps halted. Lynn took a deep breath and dared to look the prince squarely in the eye. His eyes widened but he did not look away.

"What happened to the others?" She said quietly, heart hammering like a hummingbird's. It didn't make sense; she shouldn't be here. "The others on the ship-"

The prince eyes darkened and his hand fisted atop the bedpost. "You are safe now."

She was treading on dangerous waters but she had to know. "Where are they?" She repeated. "Please. I don't remember anything after I blacked out-"

The prince growled low in his throat, mouth curling into a snarl, and Lynn froze.

"Those vagabonds received their punishment," he hissed. He shook his head slightly and his black expression lightened. "I will return in the morning. You are safe now. Rest."

She stared after him, barely registering the sound of the door being dead-bolted. _Punishment?_ What did that mean?

...

* * *

"You are awake." Faint surprise coloured his voice and he approached the bed more cautiously than he had entered.

Lynn nodded. his surprise was not unwarranted; the prince made almost daily visits to her room, and though she was usually asleep when he came, she would find new trinkets on the bedside table or a missing bruise along her arm. Gratitude- feigned or otherwise- was the best way to put him in a good mood, she felt.

She cleared her throat and his eyes immediately zeroed in onto her face. She coloured under the scrutiny. "T-thank you," she stammered. "For the gifts."

His reply was guarded. "I hadn't thought you noticed them."

"I did, when I woke up, I mean," she floundered.

She looked up when he did not reply and saw him standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. Well, that was odd.

"Do you want to sit?" she asked tentatively. Was he really waiting for her permission?

It seemed he was for he was soon moving forwards and occupying the chair beside her bed with a decidedly relieved air.

"How are your injuries?"

"Oh, umm," the question had taken her by surprise, so perplexed was she by his behaviour. "My leg's still broken- fractured," she amended quickly. "But I don't feel dizzy anymore."

He nodded and retread to his own thoughts if his countenance was anything to go by.

"Sire?" The title felt foreign and false on her tongue; a lie. His head snapped up and she lowered hers just as quickly. "I- um, may I ask a question?"

"Of course," he replied quietly. There was something strange in his tone, something she'd never heard before.

"I she swallowed. "I was wondering, what happened to the other people on the ship?" She risked a peek at his expression and found it be be growing steadily darker. "I just-"

"You need not worry yourself about them."

She nodded hesitantly. "So you said, but I still-"

"Do not question me about such triviality," he said severely.

"Please," she said, raising her eyes to his. "Please, I just She thought she saw something soften in his eyes, turning the blue almost warm, but the iciness quickly returned and she was sure she'd imagined it. "I just need to know."

He crossed his arms, considering her request with a frown. "I will not entertain any further discussion of the topic," he warned.

Lynn nodded, that was fine. She just needed to know where they were and how-

"They are dead."

The prince waited for her to speak but Lynn had no breathe left to speak with.

He glanced at her before continuing. "Their ship was completely destroyed; I made sure of it. There is no chance of them ever returning."

She had begun to shake uncontrollably.

"Are you in pain?"

He reached for her and she reared back as though struck.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

He looked concerned but lowered his hands slowly to his sides.

"You have not eaten," he said suddenly. "You should eat; it will aid your recovery."

She opened and closed her mouth but her throat was constricted with a lump the size of her fist. The devastation clawing at her chest was making it impossible to breathe and she shook her head to rid herself of the feeling.

"You do not wish to recover?"

Her head snapped up and the tears burst free of their dam, her fists forming a white-knuckled grip on the bedspread.

"You _murderer_," she hissed, through her tears. "How dare you stand there- acting as though you're completely innocent-"

The prince looked displeased and faintly confused; he was lucky her leg was still broken or she would've clawed the hateful expression off his face, she thought savagely.

"Murderer!" She spat, choking on the word as she shuddered. It was all she seemed to be able to say. "Murderer!"

"Enough." His voice rang with finality. "You are ill and your mind is clouded. You will make sense when you are better."

He rose to leave and Lynn was grateful for it. The door slammed behind him but she was crying too hard now to care what he thought.

She cried in the way of a woman granted another chance at life with no reason left to live. Her despair echoed in every shuddering of breath, every moan pulled out from her chest, every tear spilled from her eye. Lynn wrapped her arms around herself but nothing she did could convince herself her world hadn't fallen apart.

…

* * *

It was weeks before she allowed him to see her again.

"You risk this impertinence at the cost of your own life," he warned.

He could see her arms trembling on her chest but still she turned her face defiantly away- every time before she had either started screaming hysterically or throwing things. She was clearly not remorseful for her inexplicable behaviour.

The prince scowled. He could wipe her memories, here and now, with barely any effort at all; a single jewel around her throat and she would abandon this disobedience completely. It was a tempting idea. In fact, if he called one of his servants-

"What I don't understand is _why_ you saved me."

He looked up at the question. He could hear the hatred mingled with confusion in her voice and the question still annoyed him.

"Why would I not?"

She fixed him with an eerily familiar stare; it sent a shiver down his spine. "Why would you?" She retorted.

The answer to that question was one the prince did not like to examine too closely himself so he tactfully avoided it instead. "I thought you'd died long before that night."

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"You do not recall? My servants informed me you had fallen into the river and when I could not find you alive I assumed you were dead."

She did not reply and instead turned her head. Her jaw trembled and though he could not see it, he knew her green eyes filled with tears.

It angered him in a strange, frustrating way that she would not tell him why she was upset.

He had rescued her from those pirates who'd held her captive, given her every luxury he could think to give, put her in _his own bed_- and still she was dissatisfied. He couldn't understand it. He'd tried reassuring her- countless times- that he'd dealt with them; that she was in no danger of them ever taking her again but that would result in either her being angry at him or tears. Usually both. He'd long run out of possible conclusions and as she was not forthcoming with any explanation of her own he had resorted to petty persuasion tactics- or arguing. Not that either method had proven the least bit useful so far.

Despite all her infuriating capabilities, just the sight of her shaking shoulders bothered his mutilated soul in a way he never imagined anything could. She buried her face in her arms and he lifted a hand to- to what? Console her? Comfort her? She would flinch away before he could even attempt the thought. Finally, when he thought he could take no more, she spoke.

"W-why?"

He could barely discern the words they were so muffled.

"Why did you have to come b-back?"

He didn't understand but the hate-filled glance she sent his way cut him like a knife.

"We were so close! W-we would have been free!"

The prince looked at her in confusion. What was she saying? Who would have been free? Lynn knew nothing of the Queen. Who could she…

"We could've finally escaped this nightmare."

No.

Surely not.

We.

_We_.

The prince felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach.

She was not referring to him.

She was not-

She was referring to _them_.

The one's who'd stolen everything from him-

Destroyed his home. Destroyed his kingdom. Destroyed everything that he owned.

She was grieving for **them**.

Lynn looked up at him and her tears glistened like streaks of diamonds down her face. He felt no remorse. But he had to make sure. Perhaps he'd misunderstood. If there was any doubt, any chance that he'd missed something...

"You were fleeing from me?" His voice was hollowness tinged with desperation.

She nodded silently, and it was like a nod from the judge at the executioner's block.

"The pillaging, the destruction, the _obliteration_ of my mines, the extermination of my servants- all of it was... It was not you who had- Surely-"

The words constricted in his throat, his eyes begging to be contradicted. She'd been coerced; surely she'd been coerced. Never would she do their bidding willingly, never would she turn against him so... No. No one who looked upon him with those eyes and those lips could be capable of such crimes. Only, what was she saying?

"It was a distraction. We'd planned the whole thing mo-"

"No." Those cheekbones, that brow- nothing so familiar, so dear could be responsible for such destruction. The prince breathed out through his mouth and his eyes clouded. "No," he repeated, more forcefully. He could not align the two in his mind. And if he could not make sense of it then it must not be true.

Her eyebrows arched defiantly. "I was the one who-"

"NO!" Roared the prince. His eyes were like pitch. She was an innocent in their schemes. A pawn. She was lying to him. "You have not betrayed me." They had made her lie to him. "Lies. They are all lies!"

"I'm not lying," she said. This too was a lie, a trick to blindside him, make him do something foolish. He breathed out through his mouth. Things were fraying, falling apart. He had to get away. He had to-

Why was she looking at him like that? With triumph and contempt and- Dammit, why was she looking at him like that!

"Enough!" He stood up, knocking his chair to the floor. "I will- I will leave you." He hardly knew what he was doing but if he stayed in her presence any longer, while she continued to tell him these falsehoods, while she continued to look at him in that repulsive way-

He fled.

He was outside and running before conscious thought could catch up to him. _Lies, lies, lies- _The sunlight filtered weakly, feebly, through the dense canopy as though wary of the creatures it illuminated. _As they should, _thought the prince.

He flitted through the forest, footsteps nimble, whole body fluid, and presence so light branches were barely broken underfoot. The forest was clearing the way for him and he almost clawed it back to him to present himself with a greater challenge. He could feel the muscles in his legs begin to tremble with exertion but he would not stop till he every ounce of his strength was spent; a foolish endeavour, he knew, but it was the only way he could stay ahead of the whispers already twining around his heels.

When the terrain in front of him grew too rugged to tread he turned upwards, pulling himself up the nearest, tallest tree he could find, hand-over-hand till the air was too thin and every breath tore viciously at his lungs. He sat with his back against the thinning trunk and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being slightly out of breath. His limbs tingled and he felt the muscles spasm and shift gently under his skin. Here, where the world was stiller and the air was thinner- where he could barely breathe- the prince felt himself finally calm.

He sat shrouded in the trees, one leg gathered against his chest. The half-moon sat serenely in the sky even as the last creeping rays of dawn bled into the darkness. If he turned his head he would be able to make out the topmost turret on the queen's castle. The air grew chilly but he neither noted nor felt its bite. From here he could see as far as the sea and all the ruins of his empire in between. He breathed out heavily, forcing his thoughts away from the pain in his chest and the pounding in his head.

There were two beasts that warred within prince's chest: the first was one he had, foolishly, decided to run from; the second was what he had chased as he ran. Both had turned on him now and if he did not face them, they would tear him apart. He had no choice.

Carefully indifferent, he unfolded the situation in his mind.

The queen was coming. He had no workforce; the mines were destroyed; his servants either dead or injured and he was still weaker than he had even been. An empty, detached panic stirred in his chest.

The setting sun bathed his face in an orange glow as he swung his leg in the evening breeze and tried to think.

...

* * *

Lynn trailed her fingers over the wood grain pattern of the windowsill. The servants the prince had left her had carried her over to an armchair, at her request, but it had been three days with only her thoughts for company and they were driving her insane. She pushed open one of the drapes with a finger. The view was mostly filled by trees but there was a chink in the greenery she she could just make out the sparkling blue of the ocean.

There was a chance they'd survived. She'd been thinking about it- God only knew how much she'd thought about it- and even if the ship had capsized, as she feared, there might have been enough time for some of them to reach the lifeboats. Or cling to a piece of driftwood, or a barrel or something. She remembered reading a book where the survivors had clung to bits of driftwood and drifted ashore. She didn't know how far they'd travelled when the prince attacked but maybe, if the current was flowing the right way, maybe John, Michael and Tom could drift ashore too. It was a slim chance but she was clinging to it, clinging to it with all the optimism she could muster- it was either that or complete and utter hopelessness, and if she allowed herself that then she might as well lie down and die now, and Lynn was not one for giving up.

There was just one remaining problem: how was she going to escape?

Her legs weren't as bad as they had seemed that first day. She could almost put weight on the left one; if she could make herself a crutch of some sort she could probably manage hobbling. It was too high a drop from the window so she'd have to pick the lock on the door somehow. Or steal the key from one of the guards. She frowned. They were always so careful though, and she was so frustratingly weak compared to them... Maybe if she knocked one out- but they always came in twos so that would never work...

Lynn propped her face in her hand and frowned as she stared out of the window. _Think Gwendolyn. Think!_

...

* * *

"Report."

The boy saluted. "50% completion, sire. We should be up to 53% by the end of the day."

"I want 60% by tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

The prince watched the boy scurry off, his thoughts chaotic.

The queen was due to arrive any day now.

The southern mines had been completely destroyed. Two weeks he'd spent surveying the extent of the damage wrought to his mines; two weeks he'd spent trying to fix those damages- to no avail. It would take months- at minimum- to restore them to working order, and the prince was not foolish enough to hope he'd have the luxury of luck on his side. He'd managed to salvage the lift shaft, which meant the argentum that had already been mined could be salvaged. Even that had been a perilous venture; the mine was so unstable now he'd almost lost two of his servants trying to haul it all out, and what a meagre quantity it was. But with the queen's arrival so imminent the prince could not afford to be picky.

Today he was in the western mines beneath the mountains that surrounded the queen's castle, inspecting. Fortunately, the blaggards had left the other three mines untouched. But the unyielding numbers persisted in taunting his tired mind as he paced the dimly lit corridors, drawing frightened stares in his wake. It wasn't good for his workers to be so taxed; it would lead to fatigue and sickness and slowed production- but what choice did he have? His own servants were beginning to feel the strain. He strode down the tunnelled corridor, looking into each cavern as he passed. He couldn't push them any harder even if he tried, but if he didn't, they'd all be dead.

He was too exhausted to even curse because no matter how often he tried to ignore it, the truth was he simply would not be able to make enough. There was no conceivable way he could procure enough of the precious rock in time. No matter how hard he drove his remaining task force or how deep he made them dig for the larger crystals- unless the queen decided she was more partial to a visit three months hence- he was as good as finished.

If only there was a faster way to unearth it all, he thought desperately. Better pickaxes? A larger workforce? Pretend the argentum had run out... Now he knew he was going mad. He slammed his fist against the wall, barely refraining from slamming his head against it as well. But what else was there? What could he do? There was no way he'd be able to meet the quota in time, and he was barely strong enough to leave the island as-

He drew his hand away from the wall and examined it, perplexed.

He was bleeding.

It was only a trickle of blood, but he was bleeding nonetheless. The prince did not bleed from mere rock. He leaned in closer, chipping away the surrounding rock with a fingernail. By the time he stepped back, a hole the size of his hand _glittered_ back at him.

He had workers summoned there within minutes.

...

If his servants had been allowed to voice the thought, they would have sworn their usually stoic prince was on the verge of smiling.

The prince stood off to the side, watching the mountain of opalescent, white jewels grow. Perhaps he had been too too quick to judge Lady Luck. He summoned a passing worker.

"What is our status?"

"We have three other teams working on all sides of the mountain-"

"Only three?"

The boy shrank back. "Sire, we still need teams for transportation, you understand..."

The prince's nod was curt. "Continue."

"I-if we m-maintain our current progress, we should be at e-eighty percent within three days."

"Excellent," murmured the prince. "Dismissed."

The queen was due any day now- any minute, even. She had taken measures that rendered him unable to detect or predict her arrival. It was both worrying and infuriating but there was nothing he could do about it. With his latest find though, perhaps she would be pleased enough to let the shortages slip by unnoticed. Twenty percent was a large margin, and the queen would not forgive anything less than half that.

The prince decided it was time to do something he had never- in the century of his prince-hood- lowered himself to do.

He pushed back his sleeves, revealing lean forearms and rubbed his palms together in a circle. Children scrambled out of the way as he approached the rock-face. He lowered his hands and the force of it shook the cave, sending debris flying everywhere. The exposed glittering jewels shone back at him and he grimaced in a satisfied way.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

...

* * *

Her legs were on fire. If the left one wasn't broken before, it sure was now. Lynn tore at the shrubbery in her way, ripping the thorns away from her face and leaving a messy trail of destruction in her wake.

She was going to make it. She had to make it. She had to.

Her makeshift crutch caught on an uncovered root and she fell face-first in the detritus-laden forest floor. She could hear them coming after her.

Her foot caught on something but her leg was well and truly broken now and none of her desperate tugs could convince it to move.

"No," she whimpered, dragging herself forwards with her hands. Her fingernails scrabbled desperately in the dirt as two sets of feet settled beside her. "No-"

Small hands clamped down on to her wrists, lifting her up.

"No!" she screamed, writhing in their grasp. "Let go of me! Let go!"

One clamped a painful hand over her mouth. She bit down viciously, surprised at the faint, coppery taste of blood trickling onto her tongue but the boy barely looked at her, removing his hand only when his partner had a cloth securely fastened over her mouth instead.

The one she'd bitten lifted her into his arms and she struggled in his grasp, pummelling and shoving his chest with all her might. He was no boy, she realised as he loped over the uneven terrain with ease and his smaller companion cleared the way before them; he was almost as big as her.

The rag was filthy and nauseating and it was all she could taste in her mouth. Her eyes swam with tears and her head slumped against her captor's chest in defeat. She was exhausted. And they weren't going to let her get away.

She pounded her bound hands feebly against his chest. "Please," she sobbed, muffled. "_Please_..."

...

* * *

She was asleep, her breath coming out so shallowly that her chest barely moved. Thankfully there was no fever; she was merely exhausted. The prince drew closer and pulled away the bedcovers, his expression darkening at what he saw. Raw welts and scratches ran up the lengths of her legs to her thighs, dotted with purple-blue bruises the size of his fist. Both legs were horribly swollen. He threw the covers back over them to hide the ghastly view from sight. Foolish girl.

The prince could not decide whether he was more angry or pained to see her this way. He was not strong enough to heal her- not without arousing suspicion or causing himself harm- but she could not stay here for long. He rested a hand on her forehead and gathered what strength he could manage.

"Awaken."

She blinked almost immediately.

"Let me go," she said. Her eyes were narrowed and there was venom in her voice.

"Your legs are broken."

"Release me," she hissed.

"You cannot move. How would-"

"It doesn't matter!" She screamed, thrashing wildly.

She was becoming hysterical.

"Why do you even keep me? Why didn't you kill me when you killed everyone else? What makes me so _special_?" She spat. Her eyes burned with hatred and unshed tears. "Tell me!" She screeched.

His voice, when he finally found it, was coarse and unsteady. "I- I do not have time for this."

He moved to the table beside the window and opened a locked drawer while his servants kept her pinned to the bed.

"Let me go! I'd rather take my chances with the beasts than stay here with you!"

Carefully pushing aside the hidden compartment he lifted out the small bundle of silver furs. Laying it flat on his palm he pulled away the furs to reveal an intricately carved silver pendant, set with a large, glimmering black gem. It flashed blue whenever it caught the light. _Obsique_... The stone he had so meticulously prepared for her so long ago, only to discover it unwrapped and untouched nestling among her petticoats.

He lifted it up by its chain and all the reservations he'd had so long ago came rushing back in force. Would the spell be so powerful as to kill her? Would it drain her life- and if it didn't, if the gem left her alive but as a husk of her former self, would it better if it had? Well, consequences be damned, she had forced his hand now.

She reacted violently to his coming near her but he forced it over her head in the end. The prince watched for the transformation with something akin to dread. The moment the jewel made contact with her skin Lynn went completely still. Her mouth stopped mid-protest then closed and settled into a line of complete neutrality. Her eyes, so full of fire just moments before, emptied and grew vacant.

A sour feeling filled his gut and he turned away.

"Put her-"

"What have you done to me?"

The prince turned around in shock. She was battling with herself, with the obsique, he realised amazed.

"Repeat yourself," he ordered. The muscles in her jaw relaxed and she practically sighed as her lips parted.

"What have you done to me?"

The same neutral, impassive voice but her eyes were trained on him. There was no mistake: she _had_ spoken. Servants could not speak without permission- yet, she had. He bent down to look at her more closely. The muscles around her mouth were taut and trembling, as though she were fighting them for control, but her eyes were fixed on him. He could see the ire quivering behind the green irises; never before had he felt so relieved to see such an emotion.

The prince stopped short. He could've strangled himself for such folly. What was he thinking, indulging in emotions at a time like this? The queen was on his doorstep!

"You will obey me," he ordered, bringing his thoughts back to the room. "You will not remove the necklace."

He frowned when she did not respond.

"Answer me."

"...Yes." Again that empty, dispassionate voice.

"You will not run away."

"Yes."

"You will not try to escape."

The prince halted mid-stride when she did not respond. She had resumed struggling, biting her tongue no doubt, to keep the word from slipping through her lips. He fixed her with a hard stare.

"_Answer me_."

Her eyes screamed for his painful demise.

"Yes."

Satisfied, he nodded. "Take her away."

…

Long ago the walls of the queen's castle had been white but over time the forest had encroached its boundaries and laid waste to its beauty. It hid like a vine-covered tumour, buried deep within the mountains on the west side of the island. It was a large castle with more rooms than the queen ever had need of and looming defences that made it virtually impenetrable; the only accessible route by foot was a narrow winding pathway that snaked up the side of the mountain where the queens 'pets' were wont to roam and the ground was in habit of falling beneath travellers' feet.

The interior of the castle was constructed and furnished completely in white marble. The throne room where he awaited the queen's arrival was a magnificent hall with cathedral ceilings that supported the cobwebbed chandeliers hanging every few feet. In comparison, though considerably warmer, his own subterranean 'castle' was a hovel in ground.

The prince had donned full royal regalia in honour of the queen's arrival. Argentum glittered at his throat and ears, complementing the black, satin tunic he wore; it had once fitted his form perfectly but now it hung loosely off his thin frame, revealing just how trying the past few months had been on him. He had donned an ermine cloak in the hopes of hiding it. He wore leather gloves and boots as was customary, leaving his face and throat looking luminously pale in comparison. His feathered mask was tucked into the lining of his cloak but he took out every now and then, brushing his fingers over the studded gems, betraying his anxiety.

The prince felt her presence on the surface of his skin before he saw her, shivered with it, and felt it slither into the recesses of his mind. He was unmasked and waiting on bended knee when the queen swept into the throne room, her shimmering black gown in stark contrast to the white. It was a gown made of the night sky; black and shimmering with stars. The weight of her gaze prickled on the back of his neck and he sank his chin lower onto his chest. The prince felt the chill resettle beneath his skin and so cold did he feel that he half expected to see his breath condense on the air when she gave leave for him to speak. He felt naked without his mask and tried as subtly as he could to deny the queen entrance into his mind; her probings were as twisting as smoke and just as poisonous; he could not tell how successful he was.

"Arise."

The queen settled back against her magnificently throne, an intricately carved slab of marble, studded with teardrops of argentum along the back and arms. It had been a long time since he had seen her and almost instantly he was drawn to her eyes, completely black with no whites to surround her dilated pupils, framed by thick lashes and a pale, heart-shaped face. Her crown sparkled atop her dark locks like sheathed diamond daggers. There was no smile on her thin lips.

She had brought her servant boy with her; stoic and unexpressive, he was taller than Peder remembered him. She turned her gaze on him then, crossing one leg over the other with a casualness that belied her disposition. She tapped her nails against the arms of her throne and the marble chipped away under her angry fingers. The prince suppressed the sudden, inadvisable urge to flee.

"Explain yourself."

Her voice promised a thousand painful deaths but he stared back without so much as a flicker, the furious rhythm of her nails serving to distract him. "What would you like me to explain, my queen?"

"Do not play me for a fool, boy," she warned, voice echoing ominously in the cavernous throne room.

"Forgive me." He bowed his head so that his face was bent too low to see; there was no 'good' way to express what he had to next. "Forgive me, my queen." He repeated, displaying his hesitation. "There was a…revolt- Ah!"

The staccato beat stopped and the prince sank to his knees, eyes streaming with pain.

"And _why_, did you _allow_ this revolt?" The queen carded knives through his mind, punctuating each emphasised word with a degree of agony that surpassed the one before it. "How could a prince- No. No, you are no _prince_ to me. How dare you, a worthless _mortal_, entrusted with the responsibility of my most prized fortress, have allowed a meagre band of filthy human children to revolt?" The prince could barely see, so severe was the pain. "Answer me!"

"Forgive me," he gasped. "Forgive…"

"I gave you my _blood_," she snarled, a stream of barely suppressed curses slipping past her teeth.

He felt like he was on fire, his skin raw and peeling and- suddenly the heat was replaced by cold, intense, mind-numbing cold that robbed all sensation from his extremities and rendered him immobile. It was all in his head; he could feel the marble beneath his knees- distantly- but it did not make the torture any more bearable. The blood in his veins was freezing and boiling him alive. He could not get enough air.

He collapsed, convulsing with effort of keeping his mind in one piece, in one place. He felt her stand and seconds later she had him hauled up by his shirtfront, watching him struggle for breath. She lifted him higher until he was forced to look her in the eye. Her voice was pure venom and her breath felt like noxious fumes ghosting against his cheek.

"_Name one reason why I should not claim your miserable soul, this instant, Peder Pannerson."_

He gasped, the name striking him almost as hard as her hand, before she let him crumple to the ground, whimpering. She looked down at his pathetic form, eyes ablaze with hatred and contempt. He had never seen her so livid. He had to act quickly. He knew this. If he didn't, he'd never get another chance- not if he was dead.

"I f-fou…"

But he was choking. He couldn't-

The queen snapped her fingers and the pressure eased. He slumped against the ground for a minute to catch his breath but quickly pushed himself into a sitting position. His tongue was clumsy in his mouth.

"I found it," he gasped, coughing dryly. He looked up at her, communicating with eyes red-rimmed and teary. _"I found it."_

Her sharp intake of breath was all he heard before the room swung violently and he passed out.

...

The minute his head touched the ground, the queen revived him, intent on knowing if he was speaking the truth. He awoke, head splitting, and barely conscious to the sound of her ordering him to bring evidence to support his claims- _on pain of death_.

He was too weak to summon his servants so he called for one instead. The boy, who'd been waiting outside, was uneasy in the queen's presence and doubly so at the sight of his master so incapacitated. He beckoned the boy closer, getting him to help him right himself before passing on the order.

"Bring up a sample of the latest…jewels for her majesty." _Now_.

The boy bowed and disappeared instantly.

The queen returned to her throne and her nails resumed their staccato beat. His cloak felt like lead upon his back and he massaged his throat to help the air through it. The large double doors at the end of the room slammed shut as the boy exited and the prince winced, feeling the sound reverberate painfully through his head. He pulled one knee up against his chest and let his head slump onto it, princely attitude be damned. The pain was still there, make no mistake; the queen was not letting him go just yet, but it did not have the same skull-splitting intensity, which was more than he could have hoped for at this point.

…

He was almost asleep by the time his servant returned, opalescent stones cleaned and buffed, presented in an ornate trinket box as was befitting a showing to the queen. The prince bowed his head from his position on floor unable to lift himself higher. The queen ordered her servant boy to take it from the younger boy and bring it to her for closer inspection. She lifted one carefully out of the box and held it to the light. Even from his low position, the prince did not miss the gleam that entered her eye.

"And how did you come upon these?" Her tone was carefully indifferent.

"You said you missed the gifts," said the prince quietly even as the queen raised a sardonic brow. "I had not forgotten."

"So certain, were you, that these were the treasures I sought?"

"No, my queen," he admitted. "But they closely matched your description of them so I was… hopeful."

She looked down her nose at him, her pupils no longer swallowing the whites of her eyes and the sight of it allowed him to breathe easier. She was pleased. He could tell, despite the pains she was taking to feign indifference.

"Very well," she said finally, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer. "Though I warn you against interpreting my…acceptance of this 'gift' as an act of clemency."

He inclined his head. "Of course not, my queen."

"I need to rest." The queen waved a hand at her servant boy and he closed the jewellery box though she kept her hold on the few in her hand. "I have travelled a long way." She flicked her eyes towards him, cold and sharp. "Do not disturb me before noon."

The prince bowed long and low, keeping his back parallel to the ground as she passed. The minute he felt her presence diminish and his mind drain of her venomous presence he summoned his head guard to him. He pulled his mask out from the confines of his cloak and fastened it across his face. Already he felt stronger. He got to his feet unsteadily and followed his servant out of the room.

They had till noon.

...

They descended the dark tunnels, feet slipping quietly over the uneven ground, urgency in their movements. The guard held the torch aloft, casting just enough light that the prince would not bump into him when he stopped. Clanging echoes of the miners pickaxes surrounded them and the prince's face was twisted with pain; it was like hey were picking at his brain. The prince's shoulders brushed the walls when he moved and he felt their jagged edges through the thin fabric of his tunic. It steadied him. He brushed aside his fatigue, willing away the burning behind his eyes and forced himself not to think too clearly about what he was endeavouring to accomplish by the end of the night. He needed to act, not think.

Deeper and deeper the boy led him, their feet fairly flying over the rutted ground. It was quieter here, for which the prince was thankful. The tunnel grew narrower and the walls glittered all the more brightly for it in the half-light. He allowed his hand to brush along the wall, collecting the glittering dust on his pals; a little extra never hurt. Finally their frenzied pace slowed and the boy stopped to open a small, crudely made wooden door. Inside two guards stood surrounded by carts of argentum waiting to be transported along the treacherous mountain routes to the queen's castle. But this was one of the deepest storage chambers and would not be relieved of its cargo for many weeks yet.

Between the two servants, barely discernible in the murky light, was Lynn. Her eyes shone like twin defiant emerald fires in the gloom. She was seated in the middle of the room on a small wooden chair, hands bound and mouth gagged. Her legs, propped on a low wooden crate, had bled through their bandages; her dress was torn and glittering dust streaked her hair and face. She made a choked noise through the gag when the prince stepped forwards and immediately strained against her binds.

He turned to glare at her two sentinels before noting the angry red scratches decorating their faces. They lowered their heads in contrition and he pursed his lips. Clearly his orders to not escape had not prevented her from wreaking minor havoc on his servants.

"Stop," he commanded, noting with displeasure the red spots blooming on the dirty cloths at her wrists. "Do not struggle."

The obsique flashed at her throat and instantly her movements were checked. He nodded at the guards and they quickly united her wrists. She flinched when he reached for her gag.

"Do not speak," he warned. The gem flashed again and the lines of her mouth tightened.

Wordlessly the two guards lifted the belligerent girl between them, one supporting her upper body, the other her broken legs. He checked them to ascertain they were not causing her any unnecessary pain before the party of four exited the storage chamber, the prince at the head, and began their gradual ascent to the surface.

The grounds outside the mine were swarming with workers and guards alike. The queen's servants would not have been deployed yet, tasked as they with with the readying of the palace. Still, no precaution was undue and he ordered a five minute delay between his emergence from the mines and his entourage's to avoid arousing suspicion. Once past the hustling expanse of the mine grounds that lay between the exit and the line of the forest, the prince's purposeful stride accelerated considerably.

He ignored the faint twinge as another thorny branch sliced his exposed cheek. With the queen newly arrived, tonight, the forest which was usually so attentive of him paid no heed to his meagre presence, and though it hindered his progress considerably, it was the first time he had considered the queen's presence an advantage. His sensitive hearing picked up the minute his servants set off from the mines and he noted with satisfaction their efforts to keep up. There was only one tree that still clamoured for his attention and as he marched towards it he regarded it with satisfaction. He paused at the edge of the western forest, waiting for his servants and their charge to catch up to him. The minute their feet passed the western border the prince transported them to his own palace with a suddenness that left them all unsteady on their feet.

His pace never slowed and he pulled the leaves and brambles out of his hair impatiently. His tree hummed louder the closer he got. It comforted him to think he had at least one creature under his command that did not need bewitching to inspire loyalty.

He stopped at its base and placed the flat of his left palm against the rough bark, feeling it thrum readily under his touch. His servants placed the girl at his feet and he pulled three, pilfered white gems from his pocket. He removed his hand from the tree and almost smiled when he felt it protest. He extracted his mask from inside his cloak and fastened it across his face briefly touching the tear-shaped jewel at his throat as well. The three servants arranged themselves in a half circle around him but he would only have strength to bring one of them tonight. He rolled the gems in his palm and muttered the low words of the spell he'd learned a lifetime ago. The gems began to glow, at his throat and face- the white ones most brightly of all- while his tree pulsed at his back. He replaced them in his pocket and lifted Lynn into his arms, resting his back against the shuddering bark of his tree.

The air charged around them, flashes of darkness chasing sparks of white; a new experience for him but he was too exhausted to take notice. The trees surrounding them shimmered; it would not be long now. Unbidden, his eyes fell to the green ones staring widely at him from the cradle of his arms. She looked scared, he mused. Darkness chased light in an unending spiral, trapping them in a vortex of light and shadow. The prince felt his feet lift and Lynn's head lolled forward in a dead slump against his chest.

…

The air was muggy and thick and the streetlights glowed through the haze of pollution like dimmed stars. The streets were empty this time of night and with a quietly muttered word the prince slunk through the shadows with only the moon to highlight his somber profile. She was warm and heavy in his arms and his hold tightened around her the closer they approached their destination. He overcame the barriers of walls and locked fences with ease and touched down lightly on the windowsill. With a signal to his guard to stand sentry outside he nudged the window open with his shoulder and stepped backwards into the room.

Dust motes rose to meet him as he crossed the carpeted floor, swirling around him in greeting. He walked over to the bed and laid her down gently, taking care not to jostle her legs. He hesitated. She looked pallid and sickly against the white lace of her bedspread and the moonlight slanting across her face only paled her complexion further. A bundle of firewood lay in the in fireplace and within moments there was a pleasant crackling in the hearth. Lynn murmured in her sleep, her brow creasing in pain. He returned to her bedside and glanced down at her legs. Silly girl.

He rubbed his hands together slowly to concentrate the energy in the muscles of his hands. He regretted not healing her sooner, but truth be told he'd never gotten the chance. Placing his palms on the breaks in both shinbones, one slightly higher than the other, he leaned over and murmured the incantation that would heal them. He maintained pressure on both breaks- fractures now- till he was certain they were fixed. Her expression smoothed. The skin was warm under his hands and he traced the imaginary cracks with his fingers before returning them to his sides.

"You will think me a dream by the time you awake," he said quietly. The door connecting her room to the nursery next door hovered in the periphery of his vision and his tone turned self-mocking. "Perhaps not even that."

He settled his weight carefully on the bed and stared at her quiet countenance, unhappiness creeping into the corners of his expression. Her chestnut locks were splayed across the white pillow in untamed perfection, her milky complexion fairly glowing in the pale moonlight. All this he could see and was denied. He could not covet this treasure without destroying it- or it destroying him- and the knowledge was a bitterness that spread to the very depths of his soul. It was a night like this that he'd first snatched her, he recalled. If he'd known then how much this frail little girl would come to mean to him, he could've been so much better prepared…

His wandering gaze was arrested by the pendant nestled in the hollow of her neck.

"Can't leave this here," he murmured, extracting the obsique with an expert flick. The pendant lay empty and jewel-less at the base of her throat. That wouldn't do. Slowly he extracted one of the white gems from his pocket and coaxed it into place. Much better.

At length he stood, conflict raging in the blue eyes beneath the mask. She looked so peaceful, free of the wildness that had consumed her after he'd found her again; so much like she was before. From this close he could see the light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose; the high, clear swathe of her forehead; the long spidery lashes that rested on cheeks that were so captivating when tinted with colour- and his resolve crumbled.

Sighing at his own folly, he threw himself into the chair beside the fire and stared into the flickering flames as he waited.

…

Her mind felt muggy and her head heavy. She raised a hand to her forehead and the torrent of memories flooding her mind left her dizzy and fighting for breath; she had to stop waking up like this. As her senses slowly caught up to her she realised the sheets were far too soft under her fingers to be considered a good thing. She was reluctant to open her eyes but it was the smell that aroused her suspicion.

She sat up slowly. That scent, so familiar yet so impossible… Warm firelight bathed the room and though it was gentle on her eyes she blinked them till tears welled. She was dreaming; the smell, the lace bedspread, all of it some elaborate dream she'd concocted to comfort herself. She looked down at her clothes and found them to be the same dirty, torn rags she'd been wearing in the prince's realm. Her hand shot to her throat and closed around the amulet resting cold and heavy against her collarbone. She tugged at it ineffectually; it would not come off.

The firelight hesitated across her face and she squinted into the gloom, fingers tightening painfully around the accursed amulet. "Who's there?"

He detached himself from the shadows and Lynn felt bile rise in her throat. Her eyebrows came together in a frown and she looked away bitterly. "I should have known."

His continued silence irked her.

"I suppose this is some elaborated illusion you've produced to satiate me," she began hotly. "Well, let me-"

"It is no illusion."

She paused mid-rant and frowned at him again. "You're lying."

He stepped back, his heavy cloak swinging behind him. "See for yourself."

"How can I? My legs are-"

"I have healed your legs," he interrupted quietly.

She closed her mouth again and pulled the covers back to see her legs indeed healed. Chagrined, she disentangled herself from her bedsheets and stood up. The fire crackled comfortingly in the hearth and he stayed respectfully out of her way while she made her inspection. It seemed real enough and when she leaned her head out of the window and was greeted by the familiar fumes of London she was convinced. She turned to him, confused.

"I don't understand… why would you take me home?" When he did not reply her tone quickly turned suspicious. "Or are you here to steal more children? I won't-"

"Stop," he said wearily, raising a hand. He looked at her for a moment but the mask hid his eyes from her and she could not tell what he was thinking. "You don't trust me to do you any good, do you?"

Her silence was answer enough.

"I have returned you," was all he said. "I have no other business here tonight."

She was still skeptical when suddenly it came to her; _the amulet!_

"Why can't I take it off?" She demanded, fingers tugging against the stone.

He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. The stone flashed white under her chin.

"You may remove it now, if you wish."

She halted, the chain sliding between her fingers. There was something unspoken in his statement. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You do not trust me; the matter is irrelevant." He sounded…annoyed.

"Tell me," she demanded; being in her own home had emboldened her.

"I placed protective enchantments on it while you were asleep," he retorted. "Obviously, you will think I am lying, so as I said, you may remove it if you wish."

She let the chain drop against her neck. "Why? Who do I need protecting from?"

He hesitated. "No one."

She stared at him for a long while before shaking her head. "I don't understand you," she said finally. "I don't understand you at all." She walked to the window feeling his eyes on her back and hugging her arms around her. "I don't understand how the two reconcile; on the one hand you take me home and heal my injuries, and on the other Her voice broke and she muffled her sobs against the flat of her palm. "On the other hand you enslave children and kill an entire ship full of people without a thought." She turned to him then, emerald eyes spilling tears down her cheeks. "My brothers are lost to me; Michael, John- _I'll never see them again_." His expression remained empty and her voice turned to incredulity and desperation. "How could you do that? Don't you feel anything? Any thing at all?"

"No." He looked away. "Not until recently." His eyes flicked to her face but she did not understand. She told him as much. "I am a servant; I carry out my orders as they are given to me. I do not- _cannot_- feel emotion."

There was something raw and painful in his voice that touched her heart.

"A servant?"

"The queen rules the island; I am merely her errand boy."

Unexpectedly, he ripped the mask from his face and turned it over in his hands. He looked down as he spoke. "For more than a century I carried out my duties faultlessly and without question- and then you, with your delicate face and eyes like emeralds, you make me feel things I have no right to feel; _you_ come along and I lose _everything_."

Feathers began to fall from the mask in his growing agitation.

"How can it be that a _single human girl_ has the power to fell a prince imbued with fey blood with a single _glance_? How is it that a mere _tear_ fallen from her lash can convince him to commit transgressions at the risk of his own life- when the_ queen herself_ has made it so that I _cannot_ change?" His voice raised in fervour and his blue eyes shook, looking hurt and confused as they burned into her own. _"Why am I so powerless against you?"_

She was shocked into silence.

He turned away roughly but he could not hide how his shoulders trembled or how loud his breathing was in the deathly quiet of the room.

She waited, not daring to speak for fear she'd say the wrong thing. She didn't- couldn't understand how she could possibly wield such a power over him but it distressed her to see him so anguished at her expense. She moistened her lips.

"Wh-why do you suppose that is?" Her tone was light, tentative; encouraging.

His shoulders stilled suddenly and he turned to her with the saddest, smallest, most heartbreaking smile she'd ever seen twisting his lips; the sight of it touched her to the quick. His voice was so soft she almost missed the words.

"You remind me of my mother."

And Lynn was reminded of a memory given to her lifetime ago, about young, beautiful boy who'd grown up too fast with sorrows he'd not known to bear.

"Aria," she whispered.

The name parted his lips and bought tears to his eyes. Eyes that spoke volumes; _I cannot hurt you_, she read in them. _But you have the power to destroy me. Do you see that now? _

"It pains me to see you cry," he admitted quietly.

Her gaze skittered and she dashed the salt drops away with her fingers. Her heart felt pulled in a million directions; how could she blame him when she saw him looking so young and so naked in his defences before her? Nothing was as simple as she'd believed.

"What did you mean," she began, "when you said you couldn't feel emotion?"

The moisture receded in his eyes and he spread his hands. "I can- _could_ not. As I said, it was only after your arrival that it began."

Lynn shook her head, confusion scrunching her brow. "No, I'm sure you mean that metaphorically." She looked up in time to see a faint smile hovering at the corners of his lips. "You can't mean that literally."

"It is the truth. Happiness, sadness, guilt; I was removed from it all."

Lynn could not wrap her mind around it. "But... how?"

"It was part of my contract."

"Contract?"

He nodded. "The contract between the queen and I." His eyes darkened but there was a touch of sadness there too.

"And how long ago was this…contract written?"

The prince's smile was mocking but he did not elaborate. "A century or more, perhaps. I do not keep track."

"Why?" The word was dry as it left her mouth and he looked at her queerly before answering.

"Why did I sign the contract?" She nodded. "I do not remember."

There was silence for a while, each occupied in their own thoughts.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, hating how hollow and inadequate the words were.

But the prince only shook his head. "It was inevitable."He stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, revealing a narrow face and a long, slender nose to match. Dark slanting eyebrows arched over pale lids and long eyelashes brushed the high cheekbones beneath; Aesop's predictions had come true, she thought ruefully. His gaze was intent. "In time, I hope you come to forgive me."

"Of course." But her smile wobbled at the edges.

"Truly I did not wish the death of your brothers," he murmured, lowering his face so she could read the honesty of it in his eyes. "I only wished to ensure your safety from those whom I'd thought intended you harm."

It was useless to try explain the truth to him so she bit her lip as the salty tears slid down her cheeks. He brushed the tears away with his fingers before stepping back, melancholy in his expression.

"I must go."

His hands rose to his face and when he lowered them, both mask and expression were firmly in place. "Keep the necklace on your person," he said, stepping towards the open window. "It will keep you safe."

She clutched the pendant in her fist and nodded soundlessly.

His eyes glittered behind the mask and she knew this was farewell.

She took a step forwards. He hesitated, his eyes flickering with confusion. Wiping her eyes she put one foot in front of the other till she was standing right in front of him. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she wound her arms around his torso, pressing her face into his shoulder. He smelled like the forest.

He was broken, this boy; she saw that now. And while that did not absolve him of his crimes, she could not find it in her heart to think of him as a criminal; he had returned her home, and for that she was grateful.

She could hear his heart, fluttering and uncertain in his chest and she risked wrapping her arms a little tighter.

"Take care of yourself, Peder."

There was a sharp intake of breath- or maybe it was the sound of air rushing out as her bedroom door opened, but when she finally opened her eyes the dark prince had disappeared and she found herself surrounded by her mother and father's fierce embrace, hot tears raining down on her face and neck. _No wonder he'd taken off so quickly_. From the shelter of her parents' arms she looked from the billowing drapes of her open window to the clear night sky beyond.

_"Thank you, my prince," _she whispered.

Her mother was weeping at the scratches on her face and tattered dress and her father was threatening to murder the scoundrels who'd taken his daughter but Lynn only had eyes for the skies.

"What on earth are you smiling at, child?"

The second star to the right flashed once before dimming, scattering the twinkling lights and the words written in them them. Lynn shook her head, burying her face into the crook of her mother's neck.

"It's nothing, Mother." Her eyes wetted with tears as she breathed in the familiar perfume. "I'm just glad to be home."

...

**-THE END-**

* * *

A/N: _In an alternate universe (say about a week ago) this chapter was ready to publish with the prince leaving before Lynn had the chance to wake up and him basically leaving completely heartbroken. Luckily, I stabbed _that_ authoress in the back before she had the chance. _

_I would never have finished this story without you guys. Thank you for pushing me when I was sure the written word was a curse and for motivating me with your reviews when writer's block had me by the throat. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it; you've made it a blast._

_Much love,_  
_Anon._

_P.S. There is an epilogue on the way but this is the end of Lynn and the Prince; if you want to issue a complaint, head down to **askanonymouse. tumblr. com** ;) _


End file.
